It’s St. George’s Day

Me: There’s an awful lot of noise going on in the kitchen.

Nell: We know. Go back to bed, please. You’ve been coughing all night.

Me: I couldn’t seem to stop.

Nell: We’re calling the doctor tomorrow if this doesn’t improve and you’re going nowhere today.

Me: Why is Poppy wearing a suit of armour?

Nell: It’s St. George’s Day and Poppy is playing St. George.

Me: Dave looks awfully worried.

Nell: He should be. He’s playing the dragon.

Me: Where?

Nell: In the field at Sunday Songs. We thought it might lift your spirits and Shel’s never celebrated St. George’s Day.

Me: No. I suppose he hasn’t.

Nell: You can watch from the upstairs window. Is that the Whippets Institute minibus?

Me: Yes. It just pulled in.

Nell: Can you see any instruments?

Me: I saw a couple of trumpets and a double bass.

Nell: That’s a relief.

Me: The Welsh corgi choir have started singing.

Nell: Good. Are the llamas in place?

Me: They’re cartwheeling.

Nell: I wish they wouldn’t do that.

Me: I have to say I really appreciate the distraction. It’s just what I needed.

Nell: We thought it would be. Poppy is cooking a traditional roast beef later with all the trimmings.

Me: That sounds lovely. Alex used to love coming here for one of Poppy’s roasts.

Nell: She did.

Me: I can’t believe she’ll never be doing that again.

Nell: I know. Now, get back upstairs as the performance is about to begin.

Me: Okay.

Nell: Wrap yourself in one of Knitwear Wolf’s soft blankets and don’t forget to drink your tea with honey and lemon.

Me: What about Shel? He needs a cup of tea.

Nell: Shel has no time for tea. He’s leading in the dragon.

Me: Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry.

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