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.

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.

Me: The Puppies seem exhausted.

Nell: Let them sleep. The search for Frankie can go on without them.

Me: Yes, I agree.

Nell: I’m afraid this is a job for the Air and Sea patrols.

Me: Do you mean birds and seals?

Nell: In the main. We land animals are limited to what we can do.

Me: Am I a land animal?

Nell: You’re definitely limited if that’s what you want to know.

Me: Very funny. How are the Beefies getting on with the other birds?

Nell: Surprisingly well. The whole Find Frankie mission has brought them together.

Me: How wonderful. At least something good has come out of it.

Nell: Stephen Seagull and Owl Pacino are actually talking to each other without rancour.

Me: I find that hard to believe.

Nell: It’s true. I wouldn’t say they were best friends but they’re working peaceably together.

Me: Well, I’m flabbergasted.

Nell: It is surprising.

Me: What about the flamingos?

Nell: What do you mean?

Me: Is Count Bingo getting on with everyone too?

Nell: Flamingos like to keep to themselves.

Me: Malcolm doesn’t. His best friend is an octopus and he’s married to a seagull.

Nell: Malcolm is an exception.

Me: Charlotte and Nigel are coming to stay tonight so they’re going to have to give up the spare room.

Nell: I know. I’ve told them.

Me: And they can’t leave prawns and feathers around.

Nell: Frau Hoffmann will be going in there to clean as soon as they’ve gone.

Me: I shan’t miss the noise. All that honking.

Nell: It was rather tiresome.

Me: I’m glad Stephen Seagull and Owl Pacino aren’t in our spare room.

Nell: Why?

Me: Just imagine the noise.

Nell: I don’t have to. We’re surrounded by owls and seagulls here.

Me: Oh yes. Sorry.

Me: Everyone is looking very worried. Harriet’s even sitting in your bed and Dave’s distraught.

Nell: Frankie the flamingo is still missing.

Me: Someone took a photo of her flying over the Hayle estuary in Cornwall.

Nell: That was last Sunday. She could be anywhere now.

Me: She looks a lot pinker than I thought she would. Maybe she’s been eating prawns?

Nell: Good grief.

Me: We need to keep our eyes on the skies. See what I did there?

Nell: Yes.

Me: And we need to listen out for honking.

Nell: Why?

Me: That’s what flamingos sound like.

Nell: I know. They’ve been honking away in our spare room all morning. We’re never going to hear Frankie above all that noise.

Me: I meant when we’re out and about.

Nell: Yes, we need to be on alert.

Me: Why are the flamingos here and not out there?

Nell: Henry and Horst are giving them an update. Didn’t you notice them go upstairs?

Me: They’re woodlice, Nell.

Nell: Everyone deserves to be noticed.

Me: True. Have there been any recent sightings?

Nell: I don’t know. I’m down here with you.

Me: We would have heard a great big ‘Hurrah!’ and everyone would have come running downstairs waving their feathers if she’d been found.

Nell: Waving their feathers?

Me: You know what I mean.

Nell: They’re flamingos not ostriches. You’re making them sound like burlesque dancers at the Folies Bergère in Paris.

Me: How do you know about the Folies Bergère?

Nell: Never you mind. Let’s concentrate on finding Frankie.

Me: There’s more to you than meets the eye.

Nell: What can I say? I’m a well-travelled animal.

Me: I know, but I never imagined you with feathers.

Nell: I don’t have feathers. I’m a Senior Labrador.

Me: Of course. Sorry.

Me: ‘Harriet’s the Queen of the Castle. Get down you dirty rascal.‘

Nell: How dare you sing something like that? I am not a dirty rascal. I’m a Senior Labrador.

Me: It’s a nursery rhyme. Harriet reminded me of it when she climbed up there.

Nell: I wish she wouldn’t. I’ve told her repeatedly not to do that.

Me: I think she’s part of Special Forces.

Nell: Special Forces?

Me: Yes. The Flamingo Foreign Legion are recruiting to help them find Frankie the missing flamingo.

Nell: I know. Henry and Horst are heavily involved.

Me: What does that mean?

Nell: Never you mind.

Me: Don’t tap your nose like that. Have they gone undercover?

Nell: Underfeather would be more accurate.

Me: Are they flying around the country on a flamingo?

Nell: Let’s start with Devon, shall we?

Me: They’re like World War One pilots, aren’t they? Risking their lives in fragile aircraft.

Nell: I’m not sure Count Bingo would appreciate the comparison.

Me: I hope they’re wearing hats and safety goggles.

Nell: Of course they are.

Me: Dave hasn’t joined them, has he?

Nell: Can you seriously see David flying around on a flamingo?

Me: I can. He has an awfully noble side to him, you know. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Where are we going to find a flamingo large enough to carry him?

Me: What about a Golden Eagle?

Nell: Don’t be silly.

Me: Are none available?

Nell: I’m not even going to answer that.

Me: I hope the Beefies haven’t been recruited.

Nell: Actually, they did volunteer.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes, and Count Bingo decided to accept their help.

Me: Gosh.

Nell: They have a vast network all along the coast and it would be foolish not to take advantage of it.

Me: You’re right. Sorry.

Me: Is something going on upstairs?

Nell: Why are you asking?

Me: Both Harriet and Dave are looking up the stairs in a concerned way.

Nell: It definitely won’t be Frankie the escaped flamingo.

Me: I didn’t say it was.

Nell: She is still on the run.

Me: I hope they find her soon.

Nell: Flamingos may appear flimsy but they’re hardier than you think.

Me: Malcolm isn’t hardy. He’s a sensitive bird.

Nell: I know, but think of Count Bingo Flamingo and the way he can dance.

Me: You’re right. He and Gladys made quite a team.

Nell: They did.

Me: I still think something fishy is happening upstairs.

Nell: What are your thoughts on lunch today?

Me: I haven’t had any.

Nell: Would leek and potato soup suit you with one of Herr Hoffmann’s freshly baked rolls on the side spread with farmhouse butter?

Me: Lovely.

Nell: I always say homemade soup is perfect for a cold and rainy autumnal day.

Me: I agree. There’s nothing more comforting.

Nell: Quite. How about a nice slice of lemon drizzle in front of the fire later with a cup of Earl Grey?

Me: Sounds perfect.

Nell: We could ask Rupert to read to us.

Me: Yes.

Nell: It’s a time to relax and put all thoughts of flamingos out of our heads.

Me: I wasn’t thinking about flamingos.

Nell: Just saying. It’s not as if the Count and some of his comrades from the Flamingo Foreign Legion would decide to use our spare room as their headquarters.

Me: Headquarters? Why?

Nell: Exactly. It’s a ridiculous idea.

Me: Do you know something I don’t know?

Nell: I couldn’t say.

Me: Is there a flock of flamingos upstairs?

Nell: It’s not a flock. It’s a flamboyance. Do keep up.

Me: Right. Sorry.

Me: What a beautiful sunset over the hills. We’re so lucky to live where we do.

Nell: Yes, we are, indeed.

Me: I can’t wait to share it all with the family at Christmas.

Nell: I expect they’re getting excited, too.

Me: Yes, they are.

Nell: You look very tired this morning.

Me: I woke up with a migraine.

Nell: Oh dear.

Me: I used to suffer from them an awful lot when I was younger but I only get them now and again these days.

Nell: You’re going to have to take it easy today.

Me: Yes, I am, I’m afraid.

Nell: David can lend you his sunglasses.

Me: That won’t be necessary. I can manage.

Nell: He doesn’t need them. They’re just a fashion statement.

Me: All I need is quiet and a darkened room. It will pass.

Nell: I’ll make sure nobody bothers you and they keep the noise down.

Me: I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.

Nell: Don’t worry, most of them are out searching for Malcolm’s niece.

Me: What?

Nell: Frankie the Flamingo. She escaped from her home at Paradise Park in Cornwall and has been seen flying around the area.

Me: I’ve never seen a flamingo fly.

Nell: No. It’s an odd sight. Long neck and long legs.

Me: Is Malcolm worried?

Nell: Very. She’s only a teenager. It’s extremely naughty of her.

Me: Let me know if you hear anything.

Nell: Certainly not. You need to sleep and not concern yourself with missing flamingos.

Me: But I am concerned. She’s probably really frightened.

Nell: She’s probably enjoying fish and chips with the Beefies.

Me: I hope she hasn’t been kidnapped.

Nell: Oh don’t start all that, please. Get back into bed and try to sleep. Give your imagination a break.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Look at the photos Chris sent me.

Nell: It’s our dear Marvin in Toronto.

Me: Yes. Isn’t he looking handsome?

Nell: He is, indeed.

Me: And proud and happy.

Nell: Marvin landed on his paws when Chris and Shannon rescued him.

Me: He did, darling boy.

Nell: He has known nothing but love ever since.

Me: Yes.

Nell: Which is just as it should be.

Me: And he’s given them nothing but love in return.

Nell: Of course. It’s what we dogs do.

Me: I love the way one of his ears goes up. Sweet boy.

Nell: Marvin has his own style.

Me: And look at the gorgeous colour of the leaves.

Nell: Yes.

Me: They’re like a vast golden carpet.

Nell: They’re nothing like a carpet. I don’t mind when they’re crunchy under paw but I don’t like it when they get soggy.

Me: No, I’m afraid the soggy time isn’t far away.

Nell: I agree.

Me: It will probably start snowing in Canada soon.

Nell: You went there at the right time of year.

Me: I did. All that snow might be a bit much for me, although I was used to it when I lived in Berlin.

Nell: Times change. I find I’m more sensitive to the cold nowadays.

Me: Do you think we’re going to have any snow this Christmas?

Nell: I doubt it. Devon is too warm.

Me: I’m trying very hard not to get too excited about the family coming here for Christmas.

Nell: Why? Be as excited as you like.

Me: What if I get over-excited? It will all end in tears.

Nell: It will all end in tears anyway. Happy ones. Part of the joy is the expectation. The knowing that you will all be together again.

Me: You’re right. Sorry.

Me: You seem happy and smiley this morning.

Nell: It’s Sunday and I like Sundays.

Me: When I was young I didn’t like Sundays. It was always about doing your homework and getting ready for school.

Nell: You should have done your homework earlier.

Me: I know, but I never got around to it. I loved Fridays. Just knowing the weekend was ahead.

Nell: Well, I love Sundays. A bacon breakfast before Sunday Songs followed by a Sunday roast with all the trimmings and tasty leftovers for supper.

Me: It’s all very food orientated.

Nell: I’m a Labrador. What do you expect?

Me: True. I enjoy Sundays nowadays. It was only when I was younger.

Nell: That was a very long time ago.

Me: Thank you for pointing that out.

Nell: My pleasure.

Me: I’d also like to say a big thank you to all of you who generously bought us a cup of Earl Grey. We are truly grateful.

Nell: Yes, we are. It is much appreciated.

Me: It really is.

Nell: What do you feel about a walk in the woods after lunch?

Me: What a lovely idea. We can kick through the leaves.

Nell: I’m not kicking anything.

Me: It’s great fun. We used to look forward to going for autumn walks with our mother for exactly that reason.

Nell: I’m quite happy just admiring all the different colours.

Me: Autumn is a strange time. So much beauty in the midst of decay.

Nell: You’re sounding a little dark, if I may say so.

Me: I am, aren’t I? I find autumn a reflective time of year.

Nell: Is autumn called Fall in North America after the falling leaves?

Me: It is.

Nell: I can be reflective, too. But enough talk. Time for bacon.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: How did it get to be the first of November?

Nell: Yesterday was 31st October, so ‘go figure’ as they say.

Me: I know, but time really does fly.

Nell: It seems to nowadays.

Me: Wasn’t Halloween lovely?

Nell: It was.

Me: I think it’s the nicest Halloween I’ve had in a very long while.

Nell: The door bell certainly never stopped ringing.

Me: All those sweet children dressed up in their costumes smiling away. Kev and I absolutely loved it.

Nell: Being part of a village suits you, doesn’t it?

Me: Yes, it really does. We’re very happy to be living here.

Nell: Now, today is the first of the month so you know what you need to do?

Me: Share the link to the website where people can support my writing by buying us a cup of Earl Grey.

Nell: Exactly, and before you start telling me you don’t like doing this, remember you post a new conversation every single day.

Me: Yes, I do.

Nell: Without fail. Come rain or shine.

Me: Yes. It’s https://buymeacoffee.com/saramartin.

Nell: Good.

Me: Thank you in advance. We really appreciate it.

Nell: Yes, we do. Now, why are you featuring the two boys today?

Me: They’re both so handsome. They brighten a grey November day.

Nell: The sun is actually trying to get through the clouds.

Me: Even better. I’ve been thinking.

Nell: Oh dear.

Me: It’s not long until Christmas.

Nell: Good grief. We’ve only just celebrated Halloween.

Me: I know but I think I should order the turkey.

Nell: Keep your voice down, please. Timothy hasn’t gone on retreat yet.

Me: How is Timothy? I haven’t seen him ages.

Nell: Timothy is a turkey. He prefers not to be seen at this time of year.

Me: Of course. Sorry.