Me: Do you know a small white dog with brown ears?
Nell: Happy Good Friday to you, too.
Me: Yes, Happy Good Friday. Do you?
Nell: No, I don’t. Why?
Me: Harriet had a secret rendezvous with it down by the river.
Nell: A secret rendezvous?
Me: Yes. It looked like it was whispering something in her ear.
Nell: Does Jim the Farm Dog know?
Me: It wasn’t that kind of rendezvous.
Nell: What kind was it?
Me: The Spying Kind.
Nell: Here we go.
Me: Dave knows.
Nell: Knows what?
Me: Knows Something. When he saw them he came running over and Harriet quickly stopped and ran towards him with a low head.
Nell: A low head?
Me: It’s what you all do when you’re guilty. Although, come to think of it I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it.
Nell: I’m never guilty.
Me: You’re defiant.
Nell: You’re not going to like this, but what if Harriet was simply saying hello to another dog and David was jealous?
Me: There’s definitely more to it.
Nell: If you say so.
Me: There is.
Nell: Good grief.
Me: A storm is brewing.
Nell: Don’t start all that again.
Me: And it’s called Dave.
Nell: I beg your pardon?
Me: The storm is called Dave.
Nell: Storm Dave?
Me: Yes, it’s true.
Nell: You’ve gone too far now. I can put up with secret meetings but a storm called Dave is ridiculous.
Me: Dave’s rather pleased about it, truth be told.
Nell: Truth isn’t being told.
Me: Ask the MET office, or the BBC.
Nell: I shall do nothing of the kind. Mutley is joining me for a cup of Earl Grey and some gentle reminiscing.
Me: I didn’t make it up.
Nell: That’ll be a first.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
