Me: Now Dave wants a selfie.
Nell: Ridiculous behaviour, if you ask me.
Me: Doesn’t he realise he can’t be Our Devon Darling?
Nell: You told him he is.
Me: No, I said he’s My Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.
Nell: You shouldn’t have done that.
Me: He is.
Nell: You know the Beefies want to enter?
Me: Seriously?
Nell: It’s Herr Hoffmann’s fault.
Me: Why?
Nell: He calls them his ‘darlink leetle girls’.
Me: Still?
Nell: Yes. Frau Hoffmann isn’t happy about it.
Me: I don’t blame her. They’re hooligans.
Nell: And scoundrels.
Me: Exactly.
Nell: Nobody’s going to vote for them.
Me: The rooks will. And so will the crows and seagulls.
Nell: Susan won’t, and neither will Terry.
Me: They’re exceptional seagulls.
Nell: Somebody said the Stuffed Tiger was going to throw its collar into the ring.
Me: You mean hat.
Nell: I do not. Stuffed Tigers don’t wear hats.
Me: They don’t wear collars, either.
Nell: Mothew says it’s got all sorts hidden on top of the wardrobe.
Me: I hope it hasn’t. We’ve got a viewing today.
Nell: When?
Me: Lunchtime.
Nell: Let’s have lunch at the Cottage Hotel.
Me: We can’t, Nell. There are far too many of us.
Nell: The llamas can have a picnic by the river.
Me: We all can. I’m sure Herr Hoffmann will make us some sandwiches.
Nell: Every time we have a viewing I’m driven from my home.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: Walking down to the beach is like joining a travelling circus.
Me: You don’t walk, Nell. Knitwear Wolf takes you in his sidecar.
Nell: I’m a senior Labrador.
Me: Rupert’s organised a really soft blanket for you to lie on.
Nell: I’m too old for this upheaval.
Me: We need to sell the house, Nell. Sorry.
