Me: What are we going to do about Sponge Finger?
Nell: Nothing. Can’t you see David and I are trying to sleep?
Me: Have you eaten spaghetti bolognese?
Nell: No.
Me: You have, Nell. You always fall asleep on a full tummy.
Nell: I had a simple bowl of cereal.
Me: You did not. I saw Dave collect the Tupperware from the Bus Stop.
Nell: Fine. David might have shared a few Tortellini in brodo with me.
Me: What?
Nell: Beak-folded meat-stuffed tortellini served in a clear, rich broth.
Me: Beak-folded?
Nell: Stanley doesn’t have hands. He’s a seagull.
Me: Neither does Sponge Finger.
Nell: Enough of all that. We’re going to forget about spying and NOIR for a few days.
Me: Why?
Nell: Have you forgotten what tomorrow is?
Me: 30th January.
Nell: And?
Me: It’s my birthday.
Nell: Exactly. So we’re going to have a fun-filled weekend.
Me: Must we?
Nell: What?
Me: I’m not sure I want a fun-filled weekend.
Nell: We’re celebrating whether you like it or not.
Me: Couldn’t we just forget it and carry on as normal?
Nell: Carry on as normal?
Me: Yes.
Nell: When did we ever do normal?
Me: You have a point there.
Nell: Anyway, we’ve booked the pub for tomorrow night.
Me: Seriously?
Nell: There wasn’t enough room for everyone here.
Me: Everyone? Who’s coming?
Nell: Everyone. I just told you
Me: In the village?
Nell: Maybe not absolutely everyone.
Me: I’d be happy with a quiet supper in front of the fire.
Nell: Bad luck. You’re going to be partying all night.
Me: What if I don’t feel like celebrating being another year older?
Nell: You might not, but we do.
Me: Why?
Nell: Because we’re celebrating you and we love you very much.
Me: I see. Sorry.
