Me: I appreciate your keeping an eye on me.
Nell: My pleasure.
Me: But you don’t need to keep such a close eye.
Nell: I’m off the clock soon.
Me: Off the clock?
Nell: My shift ends. David is taking over as soon as he finishes his breakfast, which could be a while come to think of it.
Me: Shift?
Nell: You’re doing that repeating thing again.
Me: I didn’t know you were working in shifts.
Nell: Harriet is doing nights and David and I are sharing days.
Me: I’m fine. There’s no need.
Nell: I’ll be the judge of that. Now, it’s very windy outside and several corgis have blown over, so we’re moving Sunday Songs to The Barn.
Me: Are the corgis okay?
Nell: The llamas rolled them back into place but it kept happening so Gladys decided to move everyone inside.
Me: Is Gladys conducting the Welsh Corgi Choir now?
Nell: No. Sunday Songs is not until later.
Me: I meant in general.
Nell: I see. No, it’s still Pamela, the Pyrenean Mountain Dog.
Me: You wouldn’t think a Pyrenean Mountain Dog would choose a Welsh Corgi Choir.
Nell: Why?
Me: It might feel a little too large.
Nell: Conductors are not chosen by size and neither are choirs.
Me: You couldn’t sing in the Welsh Corgi Choir.
Nell: I could if I wanted to. David has joined them several times.
Me: As a guest.
Nell: David is a pedigree Black Labrador and he’s not Welsh.
Me: Fair enough.
Nell: Herr Hoffmann is preparing roast beef with all the trimmings for lunch.
Me: I hope Dave doesn’t eat the Yorkshire puddings by mistake again.
Nell: When pugs fly.
Me: You know it’s pigs.
Nell: Not in my world. Eat your toast. It’s getting cold.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
