Nell: Nigel’s on the bunk bed.
Me: I know. He likes to sleep there.
Nell: He’s supposed to be looking after Charlotte.
Me: She doesn’t mind. She could do with a break, to be honest.
Nell: A break?
Me: Sometimes the night checks you labs carry out can be a little bit too much.
Nell: What do you mean?
Me: Dave sticks his nose in my ear.
Nell: He’s probably checking your temperature.
Me: Having a wet cold nose in your ear isn’t the best way to be woken up.
Nell: Needs must.
Me: No they mustn’t. Especially in the middle of the night.
Nell: Nigel still shouldn’t be on the bunk bed.
Me: Leave him alone, What’s the plan today?
Nell: Sunday Songs at the Village Hall followed by roast beef with roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, cauliflower cheese and Yorkshire puddings.
Me: Will there be Brussel sprouts?
Nell: Of course.
Me: And lashings of gravy?
Nell: That goes without saying.
Me: And horseradish sauce?
Nell: Horrible stuff. I don’t know why Kev likes it.
Me: He loves it.
Nell: So does Rupert.
Me: How is Knitwear Wolf?
Nell: It’s a busy time of year for him.
Me: It must be. Nobody is going to say no to a soft woollen cardigan.
Nell: Why would you say anything to a cardigan?
Me: That’s not what I meant.
Nell: Cardigans couldn’t care less what you say to them.
Me: I know.
Nell: You’ll be talking to your scarf next, or your woolly hat.
Me: It isn’t the weather for woolly hats yet. It’s been unseasonable mild. I think it’s why I’ve been having migraines.
Nell: I blame the Beaver moon.
Me: I didn’t think you believed in all that.
Nell: Never underestimate the power of a Beaver.
Me: Right. Sorry.
