Me: Dave’s sulking about The Popsicle Run.
Nell: Oh dear.
Me: He’s sitting next to my bed and won’t get on it.
Nell: Some people say dogs shouldn’t be on beds.
Me: I know, but I’m not one of them. I like cuddling you all on the bed.
Nell: Maybe David just needs some time to think?
Me: He’s not thinking, he’s definitely sulking.
Nell: How is The Popsicle Run going?
Me: Rupert says demand is far outweighing supply. His words.
Nell: Seagulls never have enough of anything and Beefies are the worst.
Me: I honestly think Rupert enjoys it. He always comes back with a smile and is full of stories about how greedy they are.
Nell: Interesting.
Me: They’ve started demanding different flavours.
Nell: How rude.
Me: Herr Hoffmann can’t keep up with it all so he’s handed over the reins to Manuel.
Nell: Does he ride a horse?
Me: No, he’s an octopus, Nell.
Nell: I know.
Me: From Barcelona. Why bring a horse into it?
Nell: You’re the one who started it.
Me: Did I? No, Manuel is just good at making popsicles.
Nell: It’s the tentacles.
Me: We call him The Popsicle Prince.
Nell: Whatever next?
Me: Anyway, Dave wanted to help make the popsicles but Manuel politely declined.
Nell: Oh dear.
Me: I think it was because of the Strawberry Fiasco.
Nell: The what?
Me: Herr Hoffmann had organised strawberries and cream for the start of Wimbledon.
Nell: A British tradition.
Me: Yes, but the strawberries had gone.
Nell: All of them?
Me: I’m sure it was by mistake and I think Dave had a sore tummy afterwards.
Nell: That’s why he’s sulking.
Me: He’s recovered now.
Nell: You can recover from something but the memory of it still lingers on.
Me: True. Sorry.
