Not on a Sunday

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: Have we run out of bacon?

Nell: This has nothing to do with bacon

Me: Only Dave usually brings me a bacon sandwich before Sunday Songs and he didn’t today.

Nell: You mean you didn’t get one?

Me: No, I didn’t.

Nell: But I saw him leave the kitchen carrying it.

Me: Oh dear. It’s a simple mistake to make.

Nell: No, it isn’t. He only had to walk up the stairs.

Me: I expect he’s hiding away now feeling all ashamed and guilty. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: David is not hiding at all. He’s fast asleep in the sunshine with a very full tummy ignoring all the chaos around him.

Me: What chaos?

Nell: Poppy is digging an enormous hole under the big bush in the front garden.

Me: What a strange thing to do.

Nell: Yes. Especially on a Sunday.

Me: Because it’s a day of rest?

Nell: No. It’s her busiest day. Sunday roast with all the trimmings doesn’t make itself you know.

Me: Maybe we should just have a salad.

Nell: I beg your pardon? Did you say ‘salad’?

Me: I did.

Nell: On a Sunday?

Me: It’s a very warm day, Nell.

Nell: Sundays are for Singing and Roasts.

Me: I only thought if Poppy is busy gardening she might not have time to prepare a big lunch.

Nell: I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.

Me: Do we know why she’s digging a hole?

Nell: We do not.

Me: I know elephants like to roll in mud. Maybe Poppy wants somewhere to stay cool.

Nell: In case you hadn’t noticed there’s a giant gazebo covering most of our front garden.

Me: True.

Nell: And Poppy is not an elephant.

Me: No. Sorry.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.