I Love Sundays

Me: How long have you been watching me sleeping?

Nell: A little while. It’s no bother.

Me: You don’t have to do that.

Nell: Yes, I do. I’m on early mornings.

Me: What does that mean?

Nell: We have a rota. Do keep up.

Me: I hope you didn’t miss breakfast.

Nell: Miss breakfast? On a Sunday? Don’t be ridiculous.

Me: Good.

Nell: I had some pancakes earlier with Harriet when she came off the night shift and both you and I will join David for bacon sandwiches at second breakfast.

Me: Second breakfast?

Nell: Haven’t you ever heard of Sunday Seconds? And I’m not just referring to breakfasts here.

Me: Are we talking about Yorkshire puddings?

Nell: Definitely.

Me: Scones?

Nell: Of course.

Me: Cuddles?

Nell: Always.

Me: I love Sundays.

Nell: Those llamas are going to be sick cartwheeling around after all the pancakes they’ve eaten.

Me: They can’t help it. They’re like Gladys. They express themselves through dance.

Nell: Get up and come to the window. The Welsh corgi choir are about to start singing and you need to keep moving every half an hour.

Me: I love my view so much. I can’t imagine life without it.

Nell: Then don’t.

Me: Are the Whippets Institute joining us today? I can’t see their minibus.

Nell: They’re stuck behind a tractor so they’re running a little late.

Me: Is that your friend Dorothy getting out of Naughty Nigel’s sports car?

Nell: Is she wearing a large brimmed hat and sunglasses?

Me: Yes. They both look like film stars.

Nell: I said to her ‘Dorothy, this is Devon not the South of France. There is no need for all this glamour.’

Me: The Cat would disagree.

Nell: I know. Who do you think chose her outfit?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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