There’s a Bear in the Kitchen

Nell: So, when were you going to tell me?

Me: Tell you what?

Nell: There’s an elderly bear sitting on a large suitcase in the kitchen.

Me: An elderly bear? Is he wearing a fetching hat?

Nell: Yes, and spectacles. He’s brought us a bag of freshly baked bread rolls.

Me: Oh, that’s so sweet of him.

Nell: We think he’s asking for a Berlin Breakfast but nobody speaks German except you.

Me: It has to be Herr Hoffmann. He’s finally arrived.

Nell: I didn’t even know he was coming.

Me: Neither did I. I knew he was spending a few days in Paris and he said he might hop on the Eurostar.

Nell: Bears don’t hop. Especially elderly ones.

Me: But he wasn’t specific. I expect he wanted to surprise me. Bless him.

Nell: I knew you were going to bring that bear back from Berlin.

Me: You’re going to love him, Nell. Trust me.

Nell: Well, you’d better get into the kitchen before chaos ensues.

Me: Why?

Nell: He’s asking for sausages and you know Poppy doesn’t do sausages on Thursdays.

Me: He’ll be talking about cold sausages, like salami.

Nell: For breakfast?

Me: It’s a German thing. He’ll be happy with some boiled eggs and a slice of ham and some cheese.

Nell: We might as well make a picnic.

Me: Now, that’s an idea. Although, the weather’s a bit iffy and he might be tired.

Nell: Iffy?

Me: Unreliable.

Nell: Maybe you should stop talking to me and go and welcome your friend.

Me: You’re right. He’ll be feeling rather lost.

Nell: He didn’t seem lost. He was chatting away to David when I came to get you.

Me: I didn’t know Dave spoke German.

Nell: He doesn’t. But he’s an excellent listener.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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