Me: I’m worried about my darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.
Nell: Has David said something?
Me: No. But he’s looking at me in a certain sort of way. Do you think he’s still struggling with the heat?
Nell: You have seagulls in your bedroom and bathroom.
Me: Not real ones.
Nell: It’s extremely concerning.
Me: The one in the bedroom was a present and the two in the bathroom came with us from the old house.
Nell: They flew here, did they?
Me: No. We packed them.
Nell: Thought so.
Me: The thing is, Nell, seagulls are part of my childhood. I grew up listening to them and I missed that sound during the years I lived far away from the sea.
Nell: How on earth could anyone miss that screeching?
Me: It’s the sound of home. If you’d grown up by the sea you would understand.
Nell: I was born on a stud farm in Oxfordshire. I don’t need horses in my bedroom.
Me: I like my seagulls.
Nell: The Beefies will see it as a sign of support.
Me: I don’t support bad seagulls. Just the good ones. And the Beefies aren’t coming into my bedroom.
Nell: They see everything. Nosey hooligans. Always poking their beaks into other people’s business.
Me: What have they done now?
Nell: You know David and his band are performing at the village fete this Saturday?
Me: Yes.
Nell: Well, Stephen Seagull and the Beefy Choir are singing too.
Me: Not at the same time?
Nell: Of course not. What do you think this is? Glastonbury?
Me: Just asking. Dave doesn’t need to worry about the Beefies. Nobody’s going to prefer them to him.
Nell: You like the sound of seagulls.
Me: Don’t start all that again.
Nell: Just saying.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
