Nell: I see Nigel is sitting in the yellow chair again.
Me: Yes, and looking rather handsome.
Nell: Is he still calling himself Nigel Martin?
Me: Only when he visits us.
Nell: He can’t just call himself whatever he wants.
Me: Nigel can be an honorary Martin. It’s fine.
Nell: Moving on, how’s your weekend going?
Me: It’s only Saturday morning, Nell.
Nell: You look a little peaky, if you ask me.
Me: I had a bad night. I hope I’m not coming down with anything.
Nell: So do I. Take it easy today, please.
Me: I will. The sun is shining which is always a bonus.
Nell: That can be your pocketful of happiness.
Me: Yes. And today is a year since we moved to the village.
Nell: A good decision.
Me: Definitely.
Nell: There’s a lot to be said for village life.
Me: There is, indeed.
Nell: I was telling Poppy and Mutley about it over dinner last night.
Me: What did you eat?
Nell: Steak and chips. Mutley’s favourite.
Me: Fat chips or French fries?
Nell: Don’t call them fat chips, please.
Me: Fish and chip shop chips.
Nell: We don’t have fish and chip shops up here.
Me: Chunky chips?
Nell: Enough. They were supposed to be French fries, if you must know.
Me: I prefer a slimmer chip with my steak.
Nell: Poppy cut them with her sword.
Me: Impressive.
Nell: She got a little carried away. Especially when the other Guardians applauded.
Me: Poppy loves an audience.
Nell: They were all shapes and sizes.
Me: I’m sure Mutley didn’t mind.
Nell: He started playing the piano.
Me: How wonderful.
Nell: It was, actually. Charlie asked me to dance.
Me: And did you?
Nell: Of course. No aches and pains up here.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
