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.
