Me: Harriet simply blends into the autumn leaves, doesn’t she? Bless her.
Nell: She does.
Me: We should have called her Autumn.
Nell: Don’t be silly. Her name is Harriet. She couldn’t possibly be called anything else.
Me: I agree. Although people do change their names.
Nell: I’m perfectly happy with my name, thank you.
Me: My pleasure. I dreamt about a black Labrador called Nell a few months before I found you. Isn’t that amazing?
Nell: I know. And I found you, by the way.
Me: Yes, of course you did. Silly me. Imagine if Dave was called something like Sebastian?
Nell: David would never be called Sebastian. Don’t be ridiculous.
Me: Something spooked him on his walk today.
Nell: What do you mean?
Me: He was watching the sunlight on the fields and then he suddenly bolted.
Nell: He didn’t see Frankie the Flamingo, did he?
Me: No. He would have told us. And it wasn’t a happy Bolt it was a Bolty Bolt.
Nell: A Bolty Bolt?
Me: He moved really quickly.
Nell: Maybe he stood on a hedgehog?
Me: I hope not.
Nell: It could have been anything. You should ask him.
Me: I will.
Nell: You never know what is lurking in the leaves at this time of year.
Me: You don’t mean snakes, do you?
Nell: It’s possible. They’ll be looking for places to hibernate.
Me: I would definitely bolt if I saw one.
Nell: Your bolting days might be over.
Me: It would be a very brisk trot then.
Nell: It’s highly unlikely.
Me: Maybe it was Nasty Lady Anwen?
Nell: Lady Anwen hasn’t been nasty for months.
Me: Just because we haven’t seen Nasty Lady Anwen doesn’t mean she isn’t there. Like a snake.
Nell: Stop all that nonsense, please.
Me: Sorry.
