Me: What are you three gossiping about?

Nell: We’re not gossiping.

Me: You’re having some kind of heated debate.

Nell: We’re discussing the auditions, if you must know.

Me: What auditions?

Nell: The ones for the Stephen Seagull film.

Me: Are you sure you haven’t mixed him up with Stephen Spielberg?

Nell: Who’s he?

Me: A really famous Hollywood film director.

Nell: Why would he be filming here in our village?

Me: Why not? Quite a lot of filming happens down here in Devon.

Nell: It’s a Beefy Production. Look at the posters.

Me: What posters?

Nell: The ones in the pub and the village hall.

Me: What’s the film called?

Nell: ‘Sherlock Bones and The Handsome Hound’.

Me: Seriously?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Well, that has Dave’s name on it. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: No, it doesn’t.

Me: But Dave’s perfect for the role.

Nell: David is not a trained actor.

Me: Kev can teach him. He’s a trained actor. What does Dave think?

Nell: David wants to be the Handsome Hound.

Me: I knew it.

Nell: Harriet and I have been trying to persuade him to lower his expectations.

Me: We need The Cat to introduce Dave to Dominic Slumberbox. Once he sees him he will know he’s the the Handsome Hound they’ve been looking for.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: In the meantime I’ll take some publicity photos.

Nell: They’ve almost certainly cast the Handsome Hound, you know.

Me: Dave can do this.

Nell: You do realise this is a Beefy Production, don’t you? They don’t like us very much at all.

Me: We’ll have to be nice to them.

Nell: What?

Me: Just for a short time.

Nell: I am not consorting with the Beefies.

Me: Not even for Dave?

Nell: Stop right now.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: You’re up early again.

Me: It’s my Wednesday Writers workshop and my back still hurts.

Nell: You’re not going to believe this.

Me: I might.

Nell: You know Dominic Slumberbox?

Me: I can’t say I do.

Nell: Yes, you do. The tall actor with the wavy hair who played Sherlock Bones.

Me: You mean Benedict Cumberbatch and it’s Sherlock Holmes.

Nell: I do not.

Me: Benedict is a tall man with wavy hair.

Nell: And Dominic is an Irish Wolfhound.

Me: Who played Sherlock?

Nell: Yes. Why not?

Me: Is this what I’m not going to believe?

Nell: Of course it isn’t. Everyone knows Dominic.

Me: I can’t imagine what else you’re going to say.

Nell: Rumour has it that Dominic’s going to be filming here in the village.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes, and he’s looking for locals to take part.

Me: I could be a local.

Nell: You are a local.

Me: I wonder if they need a Mrs Hudson?

Nell: Stop right there. Dominic’s only looking for extras. The main parts have been cast.

Me: This is rather exciting. I can’t believe they chose this village.

Nell: I knew you wouldn’t believe it.

Me: I obviously believe it now. Because you told me and I believe you.

Nell: Stop rambling on for a moment, please. I have a text from The Cat with a press release.

Me: What does it say?

Nell: It’s all true. Dominic’s going to be staying at the Stately Home.

Me: The perfect location.

Nell: And The Cat has been asked to help with wardrobe.

Me: It’ll love that.

Nell: Oh no.

Me: What?

Nell: Dominic is a guest of the famous film director Mr Stephen Seagull.

Me: But Stephen Seagull isn’t a film director.

Nell: He is now.

Me: Oh no. Sorry.

Me: Cheeky Animal.

Nell: I’m not playing with you.

Me: You can’t play Cheeky Animals with the Puppies. They’re fast asleep.

Nell: Sometimes they’re just pretending.

Me: Not this time. Look at them.

Nell: Why are you awake at this time of the morning?

Me: I can’t stop thinking about Chris and Shannon’s wedding. Only three weeks to go before I fly to Toronto.

Nell: Have you made a list?

Me: I’ve made one in my head.

Nell: That’s no good. There are all sorts of things going on in there. It will get lost.

Me: You’re right. I’ll write it down.

Nell: Now you’re up you could make a pot of Earl Grey. Tea always helps me think better.

Me: It does.

Nell: Why are you walking like that?

Me: I’ve pulled a muscle in my back.

Nell: Did you overdo it again at your aqua class?

Me: No. I did it before then.

Nell: Why did you go?

Me: I thought it might help.

Nell: You thought wrong.

Me: I know that now.

Nell: Don’t be grumbly with me. I’m not the foolish one here.

Me: Do you want a cup of tea, or not?

Nell: Yes. If one’s going.

Me: It wasn’t going until you asked for it.

Nell: You’d better make some hot buttered toast, too.

Me: Why?

Nell: You’re obviously in need.

Me: Am I?

Nell: You might as well make some for me while you’re there.

Me: I wasn’t there until you suggested it.

Nell: Well, you are now.

Me: All I was doing was popping downstairs to check on you all and now I’m making breakfast.

Nell: Needs must.

Me: What does that even mean?

Nell: Just make the tea and toast. There’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this.

Me: Sorry.

Me: We had a lovely gentle walk, didn’t we?

Nell: We did.

Me: We took our time and said hello to the chickens.

Nell: You said hello to the chickens.

Me: We needed to thank them for our eggs.

Nell: Did we really?

Me: Yes. You love a soft boiled egg and soldiers for breakfast.

Nell: I do but I’m not going to walk all the way over to the farm to say thank you every time I have one.

Me: Nobody suggested any such thing and you know it. Have you got a touch of the Mondays this morning?

Nell: It’s not my favourite day of the week.

Me: Would a soft boiled egg help? I could pop over and fetch some.

Nell: You’re still writing.

Me: I’m sure Knitwear Wolf would go, or one of the Big Cats. They’ve more time on their paws at the moment as it’s the school holidays.

Nell: Can you imagine the uproar if one of them turns up at the farm and heads for the chickens?

Me: You’re right. Not the best idea. We could ask Harriet, or Dave.

Nell: Send them both. We’ll need a couple of dozen.

Me: How hungry are you?

Nell: It’s not just for me. Once everyone hears there are fresh eggs they will all want one.

Me: Or even two.

Nell: Quite.

Me: Now we’re talking eggs, I rather fancy an omelette for lunch.

Nell: You’re the one talking eggs. Ask Manuel to make you one. Pancakes and omelettes are his speciality.

Me: Yes. Manuel has such flair with a frying pan. It must be an octopus thing.

Nell: And he’s from Barcelona.

Me: Now, I’m wondering if I should have pancakes instead.

Nell: Stop dithering, or we won’t get any eggs at all.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: Why is Nigel on your bed?

Me: Dave got off and went downstairs. I’m going to have to brush him again even though I only did it yesterday. Look at the hair he’s shedding.

Nell: Never mind the hair. Nigel is supposed to be helping in the kitchen.

Me: Peeling vegetables for the roast later?

Nell: No. Herr Hoffmann has all the peeling under control.

Me: Washing up?

Nell: No, he and David had a water fight the last time they were on washing up duty. There were suds everywhere.

Me: The naughty boys. What is he supposed to be doing?

Nell: Making bacon sandwiches with David.

Me: I don’t know why anyone thinks those two can be trusted with bacon.

Nell: All Nigel has to do is put the red or brown sauce on the sandwiches.

Me: Mine’s brown sauce.

Nell: We know. We have a list.

Me: Good. Anyway, I had a really strange dream last night.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: Harriet stole a tractor and trailer and drove off through some quite complicated and busy city roads.

Nell: That’s absolute nonsense.

Me: I know. Harriet can’t drive a tractor.

Nell: Of course she can. But she would never steal one.

Me: I didn’t know she could drive.

Nell: Poppy taught her years ago. She can fly helicopters too.

Me: Gosh. I’m impressed. My dream doesn’t seem so silly now.

Nell: It’s still silly.

Me: Why?

Nell: You don’t drive a tractor through a city. Especially with a trailer on the back. Do keep up.

Me: You’re right.

Nell: Make sure you’ve laid the table before we leave for Sunday Songs.

Me: Why? I can do it when we get back.

Nell: On Sundays one expects to come home to a laid table.

Me: Fine. Sorry.

Me: I had a lovely walk along the quay to my aqua class.

Nell: I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Me: The sun was shining on the water and there weren’t too many people around.

Nell: Were there any Beefies?

Me: Strangely not. There are usually lots of them around there.

Nell: They aren’t in the village either. They must be gathering somewhere else.

Me: Maybe they’ve gone on holiday? ‘School’s out for summer’ to quote Alice Cooper.

Nell: Who’s she?

Me: It’s a he, actually. I remember dancing to that song in my youth.

Nell: Beefies don’t go to school.

Me: I know.

Nell: And summer is their busiest time of the year. All those grockles buying fish and chips and ice cream.

Me: True.

Nell: My guess is there’s a Beefy Convention somewhere.

Me: Well, I’m glad I’m not invited to that.

Nell: Talking of invitations, four weeks today Chris and Shannon are getting married.

Me: Yes, and three weeks from Tuesday I fly to Toronto.

Nell: Are you excited?

Me: Very. Not only is there a wedding to look forward to but I shall see the family again.

Nell: We should start planning.

Me: Planning what?

Nell: You’re a terrible packer. You always take far too much.

Me: I never know what I’ll need.

Nell: We need to get Henry and Horst on the case.

Me: They’re woodlice, Nell. They’ll never be able to close it.

Nell: I was talking about the organisational side of things. Henry and Horst are excellent planners.

Me: But I can never hear a word they’re saying.

Nell: Ask David to interpret. He has keen ears.

Me: He has large ears. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Stop prevaricating and go and fetch your notebook and pen. We’ve lists to make.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: Sometimes I wish Harriet would show a little more decorum.

Me: She’s having fun.

Nell: Rolling around on your back with your legs in the air is not very ladylike.

Me: She’s happy.

Nell: One can still be happy without doing that.

Me: Harriet can’t. Anyway, it’s good to see you smiling.

Nell: I’m enjoying my day.

Me: I think Friday might be my favourite day of the week.

Nell: Why?

Me: You know you’ve got the whole weekend ahead.

Nell: True.

Me: I was born on a Friday. That makes me loving and giving.

Nell: Good to know.

Me: Kev and Charlotte were born on a Sunday so they’re blithe and bonny and good and gay.

Nell: Really?

Me: The puppies were born on a Monday so they’re fair of face.

Nell: What about me?

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Oh dear?

Me: You were born on a Wednesday.

Nell: So?

Me: You’re full of woe.

Nell: Are you trying to tell me that everyone else is something positive except Wednesday’s child?

Me: I’m afraid so. Saturday’s child must work hard for a living, if that helps?

Nell: It doesn’t.

Me: It’s just an old poem.

Nell: I was having a lovely day before you started talking about the days of the week.

Me: Are you feeling full of woe? Too early?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Would a cream tea later cheer you up?

Nell: It might.

Me: Herr Hoffmann is making Poppy’s scones and Frau Hoffmann has some of her homemade strawberry jam.

Nell: Don’t forget the clotted cream.

Me: It’s fresh today from the farm shop.

Nell: Well, I suppose that might lift my mood.

Me: Good.

Nell: You are actually loving and giving.

Me: Thank you.

Nell: And I can be like Eeyore.

Me: I know. Sorry.

Me: I’m afraid Nigel has been naughty again.

Nell: What did he do?

Me: He rolled in fox poo when he was out on a walk.

Nell: There’s nothing wrong with that.

Me: It smells absolutely disgusting, Nell.

Nell: No, it doesn’t.

Me: I know you all think you smell wonderful when you roll in it but you really don’t.

Nell: Nonsense.

Me: Charlotte had to cover him in tomato ketchup.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: It helps get rid of the smell.

Nell: That is disgusting.

Me: She gave him a bath afterwards.

Nell: I should hope so.

Me: He’s feeling rather sorry for himself now.

Nell: I don’t blame him.

Me: It’s probably best not to mention it when he comes to stay tomorrow.

Nell: Well, I hope he doesn’t reek of tomato ketchup. I can’t see how I’m supposed to ignore that.

Me: Please try.

Nell: One doesn’t expect one’s guests to arrive wearing condiments.

Me: He’s had a bath.

Nell: I hope Charlotte gave him something to go with it.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: A sausage, or a burger.

Me: It wasn’t the time for rewards.

Nell: You can’t have ketchup on its own.

Me: Don’t go making jokes like that tomorrow.

Nell: Talking of sausages, maybe we should have a barbecue?

Me: I think the weather is a bit too iffy for that.

Nell: David doesn’t mind barbecuing in the rain.

Me: Dave can’t be trusted around barbecued meat. I suppose we could grill some fresh fish.

Nell: Fish? We’re not pelicans.

Me: Not all birds eat grilled fish.

Nell: Really?

Me: The Beefies prefer it covered in batter with a side order of chips.

Nell: Nigel can provide the ketchup.

Me: Not funny.

Nell: It is a bit.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: It’s funny how you Labradors can appear enormous from a certain angle. Look at Dave’s huge bottom. Bless him.

Nell: David is enormous from any angle.

Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: What’s he doing?

Me: Watching out for house martins. One of them flew into the bedroom by accident.

Nell: Are you sure it was accidental?

Me: Yes. It was in a proper tizzy.

Nell: Tizzy?

Me: It means in a state of nervous excitement. Like Dave when he smells bacon, or you when you see Knitwear Wolf.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: Admit it. You go all unnecessary when Rupert is around.

Nell: I do not.

Me: You giggle.

Nell: I have never giggled in my life.

Me: You do when Rupert makes a wry comment.

Nell: Rupert is amusing. He has a dry sense of humour.

Me: He certainly enjoys making you smile.

Nell: It sounds like the house martin is back.

Me: We might have to get Malcolm up here to have a word with it.

Nell: Why?

Me: Dave doesn’t speak Bird.

Nell: Malcolm speaks Flamingo. It’s completely different to House Martin.

Me: Isn’t Bird the general language and Flamingo a dialect?

Nell: Most birds speak English, anyway, so David can talk to it.

Me: The rooks speak French.

Nell: That’s because they are French.

Me: And Manuel speaks Spanish.

Nell: He’s from Barcelona.

Me: And the Hoffmanns speak German.

Nell: Where is this going?

Me: I’d love to learn a new language.

Nell: No, I’m not going to teach you how to speak Dog.

Me: Go on. Just a little Labrador.

Nell: Not happening.

Me: If only I was able to bark, or growl, in an understandable way.

Nell: Never say that out loud again, please. You sound crazy.

Me: Sorry.

Me: Harriet’s downstairs looking lovely but worried so you’d better tell me what she knows.

Nell: It’s probably nonsense.

Me: Just tell me.

Nell: Lady Anwen’s considering moving into the village.

Me: Oh no.

Nell: Apparently she enjoyed her time at the bus stop so much she wants to move here permanently.

Me: She can’t live at a bus stop.

Nell: Of course she can’t. Nobody said she was going to.

Me: It’s right across the road from us.

Nell: She’s not moving in to the bus stop. Good grief.

Me: I can’t sit and write with her staring at me all day.

Nell: Would you listen to yourself, please?

Me: Is the beret-wearing Beefy in the sunglasses moving here, too?

Nell: I’ve no idea but there are certainly more Beefies around than there were a few months ago.

Me: I saw a whole gathering of jackdaws walking down the road together early this morning.

Nell: It’s a clattering.

Me: They were rather loud.

Nell: No. That’s what you call a group of jackdaws.

Me: Oh, I see.

Nell: It’s because of the noise they make.

Me: I don’t actually mind it. One of the nicest things about living here in the village is all the birds.

Nell: Not all of them.

Me: True. We could do without the Beefies and the French rooks.

Nell: Talking of French, I heard something else rather interesting.

Me: Tell me.

Nell: Someone’s hosting French conversation sessions at our local pub.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes. Twice a week.

Me: Are you thinking of going along?

Nell: I’m not sure it’s my thing but David is seriously considering it.

Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy. He does look rather fetching in a beret.

Nell: Oh dear. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Me: Probably. Sorry.