An English Sunday

Me: Gosh, that was a thunderstorm and a half last night, wasn’t it?

Nell: Half what? Monsoon?

Me: The rain will have done the garden good and washed away some of the Saharan dust that’s been everywhere recently.

Nell: Is that what we’re calling it now?

Me: It really is from the Sahara. I’m not making it up.

Nell: That’ll make a change.

Me: Have you seen Dave?

Nell: David is outside enjoying a gentle chew on his favourite toy. Let him be. It’s Sunday.

Me: I thought he might want a cuddle after all the excitement of last night. The thunder was very loud.

Nell: I was there. He had nothing to fear.

Me: You were all very good. Harriet sat and watched the lightning with me and Poppy retired to Sandringham.

Nell: Having two palaces is useful. Now, I know Sunday is a day of rest but we have things to do.

Me: Yes.

Nell: Alice’s room must be made ready and Bumper wants everything neat and tidy.

Me: Our house is never tidy. Alice would be shocked if it was.

Nell: That’s what I said but the Welsh corgi choir have brought their feather dusters so who are we to complain?

Me: Won’t they be tired after Sunday Songs?

Nell: Nothing a cup of tea and some shortbread won’t fix.

Me: Is Poppy still cooking a Sunday roast?

Nell: Of course. Roast Beef with all the trimmings. Harriet wants Bumper to experience a proper English Sunday.

Me: What about Jim the Farm Dog? He must be feeling a little left out.

Nell: Poppy will make him some beef sandwiches to take into the fields.

Me: I meant left out of Harriet’s life. She’s barely noticed him recently.

Nell: Bumper’s just a pen pal. Stop fussing.

Me: Sorry.

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