Me: Do you know the playground game ‘What’s The Time, Mr Wolf?’ where you have to creep towards the wolf until he shouts ‘Dinner Time’ and chases you?
Nell: No, it sounds dreadful.
Me: It was great fun. I can remember the excitement of it.
Nell: Rupert isn’t going to like the name of that game so don’t ask him to play it.
Me: I never really think of Knitwear Wolf as a wolf.
Nell: Well, he is.
Me: I know but he’s usually wearing a soft cardigan and seems extremely huggable.
Nell: Leave him alone. How is he doing, by the way?
Me: He’s still a little subdued but he’s back to delivering the newspapers and woollens.
Nell: That’s good to hear. I was worried about him. Why are you talking about playground games again?
Me: I think Dave and Harriet were playing games on their walk. Harriet was watching Dave but when he looked around she turned away.
Nell: Was David a wolf?
Me: No. He was just himself sitting in a field.
Nell: Was there any mention of ‘time’?
Me: Nobody said anything. It was actually still and quiet.
Nell: So the game was all in your head?
Me: It might have been.
Nell: It usually is.
Me: Yes.
Nell: You have far too much imagination for your own good.
Me: I don’t think that’s possible.
Nell: It depends on how you use it.
Me: What do you mean?
Nell: If it’s for fun and positive things then I’m all for it but it becomes less useful when you start worrying about things that might never happen.
Me: I do tend to catastrophise at times.
Nell: I know you do.
Me: Imagining the Puppies playing games isn’t catastrophising.
Nell: I didn’t say it was.
Me: No. Sorry.
