Nell: Nigel’s taken your chair again.
Me: Where? It’s ever so big, Nell. It’s a two-seater.
Nell: Very funny. He was in Kev’s chair first and then he moved into yours.
Me: I don’t mind as long as he moves when I need it.
Nell: David minds. He sits in that chair.
Me: Dave sits in the chair with me.
Nell: After his huge success at the village fete yesterday I feel David deserves the chair.
Me: Stop fussing. I’ll be watching Wimbledon in it later.
Nell: Nigel had better get out of it now.
Me: Why are you so bothered?
Nell: I’d prefer not to say.
Me: Come on.
Nell: I used to be able to sit in any chair I wanted.
Me: You still can.
Nell: No, I can’t get up there anymore. My legs won’t hold me.
Me: Kev can lift you up. He’s done it before.
Nell: No. I’ll stay here in the dog bed.
Me: Would you like me to get into the dog bed with you? We could watch Wimbledon from there?
Nell: If you get down on the floor you’ll never get up again.
Me: You have a point there.
Nell: Sunday Songs is a true village celebration today.
Me: Will Dave and the Big Cat Vibe be singing.
Nell: I think they’ve sung enough.
Me: What about the Beefy Choir?
Nell: The Welsh Corgi Choir will more than suffice.
Me: I’m looking forward to a home cooked roast dinner later.
Nell: And I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.
Me: How does an afternoon of strawberries and Wimbledon sound?
Nell: Perfect.
Me: Good. Kev will lift you onto my chair so we can watch together.
Nell: It’s where David sits.
Me: Not today. You and me. Always. Remember?
Nell: Yes. Sorry.
