Me: Look at my Big Brave Beautiful Boy. What a handsome animal he is.
Nell: David is hogging the fire.
Me: He’s just enjoying the warmth. You do it all the time.
Nell: I have to now that my yellow chair has gone.
Me: It hasn’t gone. Kev’s back is hurting so he swapped it with his armchair to see if that helps.
Nell: I sleep in the yellow chair.
Me: We’ve put a couple of cushions on Kev’s old chair for you.
Nell: Where’s this going to end? Am I going to be given someone else’s discarded breakfast?
Me: Don’t be silly.
Nell: Or made to eat leftovers instead of a Sunday roast?
Me: Nobody’s having a roast today.
Nell: Excuse me?
Me: Herr Hoffmann’s making a simple cottage pie.
Nell: Today is Sunday. Sundays are for roasts.
Me: Not this Sunday.
Nell: Why?
Me: We’re having a roast on Thursday.
Nell: Thursday?
Me: Yes. Chris is arriving on Wednesday and he’s requested a roast.
Nell: Why aren’t we having it on Wednesday?
Me: Because he’ll be too tired and jet lagged to really appreciate it.
Nell: I’m not tired or jet lagged.
Me: I know.
Nell: I would really appreciate a roast.
Me: You’ll be fine.
Nell: Sunday Songs isn’t going to be the same.
Me: Why?
Nell: Because I always think about Sunday roast when I listen to the Welsh Corgi Choir.
Me: Think about cottage pie.
Nell: It’s not the same.
Me: You shouldn’t be thinking about food, anyway. You should have Higher Thoughts.
Nell: Everyone thinks about food. Don’t pretend your thoughts haven’t drifted towards roast beef with lashings of gravy.
Me: They might have done. Briefly.
Nell: Cottage pie on a Sunday and an old chair. What is the world coming to?
Me: Sorry.
