Me: Look at The Puppies sleeping side by side. Isn’t it the sweetest thing you ever saw?

Nell: They’re not puppies. They’re 8 years old.

Me: They’re The Puppies to me.

Nell: Fine. I’ve heard you and Alice call Chris ‘The Boy’ and he’s 37, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

Me: We’ve always called him that. He doesn’t mind. He knows it’s meant affectionately. Do you mind being called ‘Noodle’?

Nell: I’m used to it. I have so many names.

Me: Yes. Charlotte calls you ‘Nellata’ and I sometimes call you ‘Nellifar’ and Rupert calls you ‘Nelly’.

Nell: Kev calls me ‘Sweetie’ and ‘My dove’.

Me: He calls me that, too.

Nell: Only occasionally. It’s mostly me.

Me: Is it?

Nell: Everyone in your family has different names.

Me: It’s a Welsh thing along with a love of making up stories.

Nell: And singing.

Me: We Welsh love to sing.

Nell: Talking of singing, there’s been a request to move Sunday Songs into the Village Hall during the colder months.

Me: What a good idea.

Nell: There will have to be less dancing, but otherwise it should be fine.

Me: Will the llamas cope without cartwheeling?

Nell: They’ll have to. Life is all about compromises.

Me: True.

Nell: Now I know I’m an easy-going, tolerant sort of animal.

Me: Are you?

Nell: I shall ignore that. Where was I?

Me: You were easy-going.

Nell: Yes, but I can’t be easy-going about my tea.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: The village hall doesn’t provide Earl Grey.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Only Builder’s tea, whatever that is.

Me: It’s just a strong cup of normal tea.

Nell: I need Earl Grey with a slice of lemon.

Me: Didn’t you just say you were easy-going?

Nell: Not about tea.

Me: Right. Sorry.

Nell: Is David begging for food again?

Me: He wants to share my porridge.

Nell: He’s had two soft-boiled eggs and a mountain of hot buttered toast. He doesn’t need porridge.

Me: He looks hungry.

Nell: He’s a Labrador. We always look hungry. It’s the look we learn first.

Me: He’s so adorable. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy. Maybe I could let him lick the bowl after I’ve finished?

Nell: I lick the bowl. You know that. As Senior Labrador it is my job to lick the cereal bowl.

Me: Maybe you could let Dave lick it for a change?

Nell: And maybe not?

Me: It doesn’t seem fair when he’s put so much work in.

Nell: What work?

Me: Resting his head on my chair and looking lovingly into my eyes.

Nell: He’s probably looking lovingly at the porridge.

Me: Only now and again. Most of the time it’s all about me.

Nell: Except it isn’t.

Me: I know.

Nell: Moving on, today is Monday and the start of another busy week.

Me: I don’t particularly like Mondays.

Nell: Nobody does but there’s nothing to be done.

Me: Is anything in particular happening today?

Nell: The Big Cats are moving out.

Me: Beauregard, Mrs King and Roary?

Nell: Yes. They need an outdoor space.

Me: Where are they going to go?

Nell: The Cat has organised a tree house for them in the grounds of the Stately Home.

Me: How wonderful. A tree house is what they had at our old home. They are going to love it there.

Nell: Yes. Do you still miss our old house?

Me: I miss the view from my window, to be honest, but I love living in a village.

Nell; Did you just let David lick porridge off your finger?

Me: Sorry.

Me: Have you seen Nigel?

Nell: He’s in the living room in the yellow chair.

Me: Oh good. I thought he might be shut outside.

Nell: It’s pouring with rain. Why would he be outside?

Me: He likes sitting outside.

Nell: Not in this weather. Credit him with a little sense.

Me: What are we going to do about Sunday Songs?

Nell: Umbrellas, raincoats and wellington boots are by the front door.

Me: Couldn’t we give it a miss, this week?

Nell: No, we could not.

Me: I hate getting wet.

Nell: Think of the poor little Welsh Corgi Choir singing their hearts out to nobody.

Me: If nobody is there they can all go home to the warm.

Nell: They travel a long way to sing in our village. It’s not as easy for them as it used to be.

Me: No, you’re right. How do they get here?

Nell: Rupert collects some of them and the others go in the Whippets Institute minibus.

Me: Knitwear Wolf is such a kind animal. Where is he?

Nell: Out delivering cardigans.

Me: Delivering cardigans and collecting corgis. He never stops.

Nell: Rupert likes to keep busy.

Me: Maybe we should take some bacon sandwiches with us to Sunday Songs? And some flasks of tea?

Nell: That’s an excellent idea. There’s no Sunday Roast today so bacon will be more than welcome.

Me: No Sunday Roast?

Nell: Herr Hoffmann wanted a change so we’re having goulash.

Me: Goulash is certainly suitable for this weather.

Nell: It is and it can be eaten out of a bowl which I find satisfying.

Me: Any chance of an apple crumble?

Nell: Too risky.

Me: Those thieving Beefies are ruining our lives.

Nell: It’s just an apple crumble, not the end of the world.

Me: Sorry.

Me: Good morning, Nell.

Nell: Good morning.

Me: Is there a reason why you three are looking guilty?

Nell: I’m not looking guilty.

Me: No, you’re looking defiant which is as good as guilty when it comes to you.

Nell: Nonsense.

Me: Dave and Harriet look like they wish the ground would open up and swallow them whole.

Nell: Calm down. It was only a few sandwiches.

Me: What?

Nell: Let’s just say that an animal, or three, found themselves to be starving hungry in the middle of the night.

Me: The middle of the night?

Nell: Around 11:30pm, to be exact.

Me: Go on.

Nell: And let’s just say there were leftover sandwiches in the refrigerator.

Me: And fairy cakes.

Nell: And a couple of very small cakes.

Me: Which I was saving for today.

Nell: Which might have been meant for another day.

Me: Continue.

Nell: And the largest of the animals ate one by mistake.

Me: Only the largest?

Nell: And shared the rest with his beloved sister and ailing aunt.

Me: Ailing aunt?

Nell: I have arthritis.

Me: It doesn’t mean you need feeding again at 11:30pm.

Nell: David likes to share and it was hard to refuse.

Me: I know my darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy can Eat by Mistake but you and Harriet know exactly what you’re doing.

Nell: We were hungry.

Me: No, you weren’t. You were greedy.

Nell: We’re Labradors. What can I say?

Me: That’s true. It can’t be easy.

Nell: It isn’t.

Me: Did you enjoy your midnight snack?

Nell: It was 11:30pm.

Me: Don’t push me.

Nell: Yes, we did, although we obviously regret it now.

Me: Only because it’s gone.

Nell: Are bacon sandwiches still on the cards?

Me: No.

Nell: But it’s Saturday.

Me: Absolutely not. Sorry.

Nell: You’re a little low today, aren’t you?

Me: I’m feeling very sad, to be honest.

Nell: Those are lovely photos of your little sister Alex.

Me: There’s Panda with Hattie at the Cottage Hotel, and in Scotland with her grandson Tobias and with a young Jonathan in Devon.

Nell: You always call her Panda, don’t you?

Me: We do. Today would have been her 61st birthday.

Nell: I know.

Me: The photo with Tobias was taken only a few weeks before she died.

Nell: It’s heartbreaking.

Me: She should be here with us now, Nell. We should be celebrating her birthday together.

Nell: Your sister Charlotte is coming over later with Nigel so why don’t we all celebrate Panda then?

Me: I would like that. I miss her so much.

Nell: Of course you do.

Me: She doesn’t even know she has another grandson.

Nell: Oh, she knows. Don’t you worry about that.

Me: I’d like to think so.

Nell: She’s a Guardian now and watching over the family with your mother.

Me: Sometimes I still feel they’re with me.

Nell: That’s because they are. If you love someone they never really die.

Me: You’re right.

Nell: I think a cream tea is what is needed today.

Me: Panda loved a cream tea.

Nell: I shall ask Herr Hoffmann to bake a batch of Poppy’s scones. He has the recipe.

Me: Do we have any strawberry jam and clotted cream?

Nell: What a ridiculous question. This is Devon. Of course we do.

Me: Will there be cake?

Nell: There will be fairy cakes.

Me: Panda used to bake those for me and bring them over when she visited.

Nell: I remember.

Me: I’m afraid I’m not quite my usual self today. Sorry.

Nell: No need for sorry. Not today.

Me: Dave’s sitting in my chair again like a person.

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: It’s adorable. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: He shouldn’t be sitting anywhere. It’s his turn to go shopping with Malcolm and Manuel for the weekend.

Me: He’s probably tired. Can’t somebody else go?

Nell: No. They need someone tall to push the trolley around Barks and Spencer.

Me: I’m sure Beauregard would oblige.

Nell: You can’t have a tiger pushing a trolley in a supermarket. Try and be a little realistic, please.

Me: I don’t see why a tiger is so different to a Labrador.

Nell: Have you seen the effect Beauregard has on people?

Me: They don’t run away anymore.

Nell: Not here in the village. They’re used to him and Mrs King. Not to mention Lionel.

Me: It’s funny to think Mrs King used to be married to Lionel.

Nell: That was a long time ago.

Me: I suppose animals can make mistakes.

Nell: Ask David. He knows all about that.

Me: Elsie the Chocolate Lab came to call for him, yesterday. She wanted to know if he could come out to play.

Nell: David is a mature Labrador. His playing days are over.

Me: They spent the whole afternoon together and had tremendous fun running around and doing zoomies.

Nell: David doesn’t do zoomies. Zoomies are Harriet’s thing.

Me: He does now.

Nell: No wonder he’s tired today.

Me: They’re just friends.

Nell: I don’t believe it.

Me: It’s true.

Nell: No, look. Is that Beefy carrying a bowl?

Me: It is. Now that’s Skilled Flying.

Nell: Never mind Skilled Flying. It’s a treacle sponge pudding.

Me: Everyone loves a sponge pudding. It’s perfect for this time of year.

Nell: That’s not the point. It’s ours.

Me: Oh. Sorry.

Me: Kev took some photos of Dave and Harriet on their walk today.

Nell: Let me see.

Me: Look at all those leaves. Autumn is well and truly here.

Nell: It certainly is.

Me: I’m glad you and I were able to go for a short walk, too.

Nell: There aren’t as many leaves around in the village.

Me: No. Did you see the apples by the front door?

Nell: Yes.

Me: One of our neighbours left them there for us. Isn’t that kind of them?

Nell: It is but Herr Hoffmann isn’t going to make another crumble.

Me: No, I know. There’s only so many crumbles you can expect a bear to make. Even a kind bear like Herr Hoffmann.

Nell: He doesn’t mind making them. He minds them being stolen.

Me: We all do. Maybe he could make an apple pie?

Nell: I’m not sure he wants to make anything with apples.

Me: It’s not the apples’ fault.

Nell: Nobody said it was.

Me: An apple pie probably wouldn’t get stolen.

Nell: Wouldn’t it?

Me: A rhubarb crumble might, though.

Nell: We don’t have any rhubarb.

Me: Or a gooseberry crumble. My mother used to make those. She loved the tartness of the berries against the sweetness of the crumble.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: But if an apple pie did get stolen it would prove something.

Nell: Someone is greedy?

Me: No. it actually is more about the apples than the crumble.

Nell: What?

Me: Maybe they’re an Apple Thief not a Crumble Thief?

Nell: What about the bag of apples our neighbour left by the door? Nobody stole those.

Me: You’re right. If they steal the apple pie they might be someone else completely?

Nell: Who?

Me: A Pudding Thief.

Nell: I give up.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: David is being demanding again.

Me: Is he?

Nell: Kev was trying to relax and David insisted on cuddles.

Me: You can never have enough cuddles in my book.

Nell: Don’t we know it. You and David are as bad as each other. Some of us like our space.

Me: There’s nothing more comforting than stroking a dog.

Nell: You’ve indulged that animal. He expects cuddles from everyone all the time.

Me: Any news on the missing apple crumble?

Nell: Yes. The empty bowl has been found.

Me: Where?

Nell: At the bus stop.

Me: It has to be Lady Anwen.

Nell: Why?

Me: Because that’s where she hangs out.

Nell: Hangs out? She’s a royal corgi.

Me: I’m surprised she managed to eat it all. She’s only small.

Nell: We don’t know it was her. I suspect the llamas.

Me: Why the llamas?

Nell: Everyone knows a llama can’t resist a crumble.

Me: Wouldn’t they just ask for some? Llamas aren’t the stealing type.

Nell: True.

Me: Were there any crumbs?

Nell: No, but a flock of birds was seen nearby so they might have eaten them.

Me: What kind of birds? Beefies? They eat anything.

Nell: No, they were quite large with black feathers.

Me: Are we talking rooks?

Nell: Maybe.

Me: Were they speaking French?

Nell: Are you suggesting NOIR is behind all this?

Me: The Notorious Organisation of International Rooks? Yes. It’s all in the name.

Nell: You might be right. But somebody must have taken the bowl so they’re definitely not working alone.

Me: The answer is obvious. It was that wretched lion.

Nell: You don’t know that.

Me: Nobody else had crumbs in their mane.

Nell: David did.

Me: Dave doesn’t have a mane.

Nell: You know what I mean.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Nice to see you sharing your bed.

Nell: David gave me no choice. Who’s that holding our book?

Me: Her name is Rachel and she was the highest bidder for the book at the village auction on Saturday.

Nell: She looks very pleased with our book.

Me: Yes, the interesting thing is she’s also a writer and is working on her first book. She grew up in the village and felt it was meant to be when she saw our book was up for auction.

Nell: It probably was. Did you enjoy the evening?

Me: Very much. We managed to raise lots of money for the village and everyone was extremely generous.

Nell: I’m glad. The apple crumble’s gone, by the way.

Me: But I saw it being eaten yesterday. Dave even had seconds.

Nell: Herr Hoffmann made two. We were going to have the second one today.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Quite.

Me: Did you notice if Lionel King had custard or cream?

Nell: He had both.

Me: Greedy, but clever.

Nell: Why?

Me: It makes it more difficult to pin him down.

Nell: Does it?

Me: Did the thief steal the cream and custard, too?

Nell: There’s none left.

Me: Did you notice if Lionel had crumbs in his mane again?

Nell: Lionel always has crumbs in his mane. He’s a very untidy eater.

Me: What about Lady Anwen?

Nell: She hid behind her veil.

Me: And Bobby Socks?

Nell: Bobby Socks ate outside with the llamas.

Me: Oh yes. So we’re none the wiser.

Nell: I don’t know how the thief is stealing the crumble without being seen.

Me: No. It’s a mystery. Has the bowl gone too?

Nell: Of course it has. If it hadn’t, then it would have definitely been David.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Happy Birthday Alice.

Nell: Yes, Happy Birthday from us all. Go on, say it.

Me: Say what?

Nell: You can’t believe Alice is 41 today,

Me: I really can’t.

Nell: Neither can I, to be honest. Those are lovely photos.

Me: I love the one of Alice and Harriet.

Nell: Are the others from this summer in Canada?

Me: Yes.

Nell: I’m so glad you could all be together.

Me: It was such a special time.

Nell: I’ve written a poem for Alice. Would you like to hear it?

Me: Very much.

Nell: Here it is:

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Neither can I.

It simply can’t be true.

How did our Alice

Get to be 42?’

‘She isn’t 42.

She’s only 41.’

‘That’s still a big surprise 

When all is said and done.’

‘It is, time flies.

There’s nothing we can do.

We’d best start celebrating 

Before the day is through.’

‘We need candles.

We need cake.

We need champagne

For goodness sake.’

‘We don’t need champagne.

All we really have to do

Is wish her a Happy Birthday.

And tell her we love her too.

It’s not presents, or cake,

That matter, you see,

But being loved

And knowing

You always will be.’

Me: Yes, that’s absolutely true, although I wouldn’t say no to a glass of champagne later.

Nell: You can have roast chicken with all the trimmings followed by apple crumble instead.

Me: With custard, or cream?

Nell: Yes.

Me: Have you invited Lionel King?

Nell: I have, and Bobby Socks and Lady Anwen.

Me: Let’s see what they choose.

Nell: Let’s see if we actually get any crumble this time.

Me: I hope The Crumble Thief doesn’t strike again.

Nell: Let’s concentrate on celebrating Alice. If the thief strikes again, we’re ready.

Me: Yes. Sorry.