Me: What a lovely smile you have, Nell. There’s nothing like a beautiful Senior Labrador posing by the riverside.
Nell: What are those llamas doing now?
Me: I’m trying not to look.
Nell: Who told them they could come down to the river?
Me: I’m not sure anyone did.
Nell: Rivers are not for llamas.
Me: They’re having a lovely time.
Nell: They’re on roller skates.
Me: It’s little reckless of them, but they brought us a picnic courtesy of Herr Hoffmann.
Nell: True. Those sandwiches were most welcome.
Me: And the cake.
Nell: That too.
Me: Dave’s ever so pleased to see them.
Nell: David is half llama, if you ask me.
Me: He does have a wild side. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.
Nell: Moving on, do you remember where you put your sombrero?
Me: I beg your pardon?
Nell: It’s Spanish night tonight. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already? Your sister and Nigel will be attending.
Me: I knew Herr Hoffmann was cooking Arroz con Pollo but I didn’t know we were wearing sombreros.
Nell: Herr Hoffmann is cooking nothing of the kind. He’s roasting a chicken and serving it with Spanish rice.
Me: That’s what I just said.
Nell: You did not. And why were you lisping?
Me: Never mind.
Nell: We always wear sombreros on Spanish night. How’s your flamenco?
Me: Now you’re pulling my leg.
Nell: I might be. However, Gladys and the llamas are performing and Manuel’s been persuaded to play his guitar.
Me: I didn’t know an octopus could play guitar.
Nell: He’s from Barcelona.
Me: Of course. Will Dave be singing?
Nell: He will. Hopefully not ‘Guantanamera’ again.
Me: It’s his favourite song.
Nell: He wobbles on the high notes.
Me: He does his best.
Nell: It’s painful.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
