Nell: Have you done what you need to do yet?

Me: No, I haven’t. Stop staring at me like that.

Nell: It’s the first of the month.

Me: I know.

Nell: On the first of the month you share the link to the website where people can support you.

Me: I wish I didn’t have to do this.

Nell: You publish a conversation every day. Buying you a cup of Earl Grey is not a lot to ask.

Me: I don’t like asking.

Nell: You need all the support you can get.

Me: You’re right. The link is: buymeacoffee.com/saramartin

Nell: There we are.

Me: Thank you to everyone in advance. Your support means so much.

Nell: It does, but so do our conversations. People are used to seeing them every day and we would be missed.

Me: Yes, I think we probably would.

Nell: Anyway, now that’s done we can move on.

Me: Is it me, or does Dave look a little on edge?

Nell: David’s expecting a call from The Palace at any moment.

Me: Do you mean Buckingham Palace?

Nell: Of course.

Me: Are you sure? It’s only Best Mayor, not Prime Minister.

Nell: Nobody is sure. There’s a kilted West Highland Terrier representing Scotland who seems extremely confident and a rather slinky Weimaraner from the South East who may be in with a chance.

Me: Why is the Weimaraner slinky?

Nell: Velvety grey coat with matching eyes. Slim and lithe.

Me: Gosh, that is slinky.

Nell: Told you.

Me: My darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy is a lot of things but slinky isn’t one of them.

Nell: True.

Me: I’ll be glad when this waiting is over.

Nell: Not as glad as David. He didn’t even finish his second boiled egg this morning.

Me: Oh dear. Sorry.

Me: It’s very hard to accept today is our last day on the main beach until October.

Nell: You can go there whenever you like.

Me: I meant together.

Nell: Rules are rules.

Me: I still think it should be no dogs from June to September. That’s more than enough.

Nell: There’s no point in crying over a leaky bowl.

Me: It’s spilt milk.

Nell: I prefer water in my bowl, but each to their own.

Me: It’s still terribly unfair to exclude you all.

Nell: Moving on, rumour has it that David might be crowned tomorrow.

Me: It’s only Best Mayor, Nell. I don’t think there will be any crowns.

Nell: I beg to differ. According to the Daily Growl a crown is a distinct possibility.

Me: Will Dave have to go up to London to accept it?

Nell: Probably. I’m not sure if the King is up to hosting with his recent illness, but I’m sure William, or Anne, will oblige.

Me: I think you might be getting a little carried away there.

Nell: We’ll see.

Me: Do you think he’ll get tapped on the shoulder with a sword?

Nell: Not unless he really annoys someone.

Me: I meant officially. In a ceremony?

Nell: I suppose Sir David is a possibility, but he might need to win a few more times first.

Me: He should be allowed a plus one. Or even a two, or three?

Nell: If he’s taking anyone, it will be Sally.

Me: What about more than one? Am I in with a chance? He is my Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: I’m sorry to break this to you, but Harriet and I have already organised our hats.

Me: I’ve got a hat. It’s even all encasing.

Nell: David ate it. Remember?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: What’s going on with Nigel and Dave? Is it some kind of alpha male thing?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: They watch each other all the time and pretend not to.

Nell: Oh that.

Me: Yes, that.

Nell: It’s a boy thing. They quite like each other so they have to pretend they don’t.

Me: I’m not sure they do. I know Davey is a great big softy but this is his territory.

Nell: Please stop calling him Davey. He’s about to be chosen as Best Mayor.

Me: You don’t know that.

Nell: Babycakes Gillespie has him odds-on to win.

Me: Have you been betting on him?

Nell: Haven’t you?

Me: I didn’t even know I could.

Nell: What do you think everyone was doing at Babycakes coffee cart?

Me: Buying coffee?

Nell: Didn’t you notice the pens in their hats?

Me: I thought it was a fashion statement.

Nell: Dear, oh dear.

Me: I did wonder why The Welsh Corgi choir were wearing trilbies.

Nell: Yes, you expect it from a Jack Russell, but not a corgi.

Me: Exactly. So, is that why The Whippets Institute minibus is here today?

Nell: Of course. They’re getting their bets in quickly before the big announcement.

Me: When will it be?

Nell: Soon.

Me: No wonder Dave is a little on edge. I thought it was because Nigel was staying with us.

Nell: No. He and Nige are fine.

Me: Did you just call him ‘Nige’?

Nell: That’s what Dorothy calls him.

Me: Maybe you’ll finally start calling Dave by his real name.

Nell: He’s David to me and always will be.

Me: And he’s my Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: I’d go and put a bet on now before it closes. He’s going to win.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Is Dave playing Cowardy Custard with Naughty Nigel?

Nell: He’s trying to, but Nigel’s not in the mood.

Me: Of course he isn’t after yesterday’s incident.

Nell: I don’t know what came over Nigel. Who barks at a Stuffed Tiger?

Me: You’ve never been very keen on it.

Nell: I’m not scared of it. I just think it’s a Nosey Parker. Always listening in to other animals’ conversations.

Me: Well, Nigel is scared of it and he’s a visitor in this house, so we need to be kind.

Nell: You can see its paws under that cushion, by the way. It’s obvious it’s still there. And listening.

Me: As long as Nigel feels safe that’s fine.

Nell: Boo isn’t bothered.

Me: If Kev’s nearby nothing will bother Boo. He adores him.

Nell: Kev is our person.

Me: Caring is sharing.

Nell: Have you remembered that my friend Dorothy is staying for lunch?

Me: Yes. Herr Hoffmann says there’s plenty of roast beef to go around and extra Yorkshire puddings.

Nell: At least that should lift Nigel’s spirits.

Me: Yorkshire puddings are the best.

Nell: I was talking about Dorothy. She and Nigel are an item.

Me: I hope she won’t be scared of the Stuffed Tiger.

Nell: Dorothy has met that Tiger countless times on her visits to me. It doesn’t bother her at all.

Me: I thought Nigel had met it before, too. Maybe something has changed? Maybe Nigel knows something about the Tiger that we don’t?

Nell: Maybe Nigel was just being theatrical. Your sister Charlotte was still there at the time.

Me: Yes, she was.

Nell: Some dogs like to make their people feel guilty when they go away.

Me: Well, you would definitely know all about that.

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: Nothing. Sorry.

Me: It’s wonderful to see the bond between Tony and Dave. They really are best buddies.

Nell: Tony is fond of us all.

Me: I know he is, Nell, but you have to admit that he and Dave are particularly close.

Nell: Toby wouldn’t like it.

Me: Toby would be fine. He knows he is loved.

Nell: That’s true. I’m aware that Kev has a special bond with Boo, but I cope with it.

Me: You and Booley look awfully alike. Sometimes I have to check which one of you it is.

Nell: I’m a lady Labrador, in case you hadn’t noticed. Don’t call him Booley, please. He is an ageing animal and deserves more respect.

Me: Rupert calls you Nelly.

Nell: That’s different.

Me: Is it now?

Nell: Stop smiling like that.

Me: I don’t think you’d like to be called an ageing animal, by the way.

Nell: I’m a lady of mature years.

Me: Aren’t we all?

Nell: Now, I know we don’t usually do this but we have a very special friend who is going through a dreadful time with cancer.

Me: Her name is Glenys Williams and she has been a loyal reader for many years. Some of you may have read her lovely poems.

Nell: We care about her very much so we want to do a big bark out for Glenys to let her know she is loved.

Me: Yes. We love you lots Glenys and we are all thinking of you and sending you big hugs.

Nell: I’m sure this will lift her spirits.

Me: I hope so. She’s being incredibly brave through all this.

Nell: I think a cup of Earl Grey is needed.

Me: You might be right.

Nell: I’m always right. At least most of the time.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: That second photo of Harriet is most unflattering.

Me: It’s an action shot.

Nell: You can’t just go around posting that.

Me: Harriet doesn’t mind. She’s an outdoorsy sort of animal.

Nell: What’s that got to do with anything?

Me: She’s not obsessed with her looks, like some.

Nell: I hope you’re not referring to me.

Me: Of course not. You’re a classic beauty and you know it.

Nell: I suppose my friend Dorothy can be a little vain, but a lot of the Salcombe setters are, to be honest.

Me: Gladys has her moments.

Nell: She’s a Pomeranian. It’s the hair.

Me: And so does Princess.

Nell: Anyone who continuously claps themselves has a problem, if you ask me.

Me: It’s a seal thing.

Nell: Sir Roger Blubbery doesn’t do it.

Me: True.

Nell: I’m afraid David might be getting a little carried away with all the publicity he’s been receiving over this Best Mayor competition.

Me: My darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy just loves attention.

Nell: He has a rider now, you know.

Me: I know he’s the size of a small pony but I wouldn’t put a jockey on his back.

Nell: No, a rider as in a set of requirements when he’s performing. Like a pop star.

Me: Seriously? What is it?

Nell: Bacon, obviously, and Yorkshire puddings with gravy.

Me: I’m not sure gravy is a good idea.

Nell: Exactly what I said. The bacon needs to be in a sandwich, too.

Me: What would your rider be?

Nell: I’m a lady Labrador of simple tastes. A pot of Earl Grey, a selection of sandwiches, crusts off, some scones with jam and cream and a slice of Victoria sponge should suffice.

Me: You’ve thought about that, haven’t you?

Nell: Hasn’t everyone?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Every time I see ducks swimming along I’m reminded of the canal near my late mother’s house. We always used to walk along there and feed the ducks.

Nell: I seem to recall the swans were rather nasty.

Me: They were a little aggressive.

Nell: I was the only animal allowed to visit your mother with you.

Me: Nigel and Boo visited too because they lived nearby.

Nell: I meant the only animal from Oxfordshire.

Me: Yes, you were my companion.

Nell: I still am. Dogs fly on aeroplanes, you know.

Me: Don’t start that again. Anyway, did I tell you Nigel and Boo are coming to stay at the weekend?

Nell: You didn’t, but my friend Dorothy did. She’s hoping to join us for Sunday lunch.

Me: She’s very welcome. People have been suggesting ways of getting you down to the beach.

Nell: Most kind.

Me: Some thought we could put you in a trolley, or adapt a pram.

Nell: I’m not a pile of shopping and I’m definitely not sitting in a pram.

Me: We have Jonathan’s old one here.

Nell: I know. It’s been sitting on top of the wardrobe for years.

Me: It has, but there might be something Kev could do to adapt it.

Nell: I am not sitting in a pram.

Me: I was glad to see you paddling in the river again. I know getting up and down the river bank isn’t easy but you did it.

Nell: You didn’t.

Me: Standing at the top of the bank taking photos of you all is more than enough for me.

Nell: I’m glad we saw those ducks.

Me: So am I. They brought back happy memories.

Nell: You’ll be making more soon when you visit the grandchildren. Without me, however.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: We’re very lucky to live so close to Bantham Beach. We need to make the most of it while we can.

Nell: Yes. From next Wednesday dogs won’t be allowed on the main beach until October.

Me: I know and I’m worried the walk to River Beach will be too much for you.

Nell: It might. I struggled a little last year.

Me: How are we going to manage?

Nell: I’m presuming wolves and lions aren’t allowed on the main beach?

Me: I wouldn’t think so.

Nell: What about tigers?

Me: I don’t think the Stuffed Tiger has much interest in the beach.

Nell: I was talking about Beauregard.

Me: Oh, I see.

Nell: Maybe Rupert can collect me on his motorbike if I can’t manage the hill?

Me: I’m not sure a wolf on a motorbike is any more acceptable, Nell.

Nell: Well, I may just have to sail down the river in Lionel’s boat.

Me: Has he got it back?

Nell: Not the speedboat. The yacht. Although, the speedboat would be more convenient.

Me: Is it still at Burgh Island?

Nell: Yes. Unfortunately NOIR is keeping an eye on it.

Me: The Notorious Organisation of International Rooks?

Nell: Obviously.

Me: That’s a shame. I suppose we could try and get it back.

Nell: Here we go.

Me: If we went over to Burgh Island in the dead of night disguised as fishermen.

Nell: Excuse me?

Me: I’m sure The Cat must have some navy sweaters and waders in its dressing up box.

Nell: I don’t know who the ‘we’ is in this scenario, but count me out.

Me: I could probably pass as a small round fisherman if it was dark enough, and you could be my faithful companion.

Nell: Stop this nonsense right now.

Me: Sorry.

Me: I never realised how much Harriet missed the Stuffed Tiger.

Nell: Why is it back?

Me: The estate agents told us it had to go, but seeing as they didn’t sell the house, and we’re about to let them go, we decided to bring it back.

Nell: It’s a terrible busybody.

Me: Is it?

Nell: It listens in to everyone’s conversations and doesn’t even pretend not to.

Me: It is stuffed, Nell.

Nell: I’m surprised at Harriet. As a spy she should know better than to welcome an eavesdropping tiger back into the fold.

Me: Maybe it’s working for Sally, too?

Nell: Maybe? Stranger things have happened.

Me: Tell me about it.

Nell: Anyway, back in the real world, David has progressed to the National Finals of Best Mayor and is representing the South West.

Me: Gosh. That’s amazing. Was it the lemon drizzle cake, or his singing and dancing?

Nell: We’ll never know. A combination of all of them, I expect.

Me: Along with his devastating good looks and winning ways. Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: It’s headline news in today’s Daily Growl, so I’m expecting that Afghan to turn up at any moment to take more photos and eat us out of house and home.

Me: It only had a boiled egg and you said it was hungry.

Nell: One egg leads to another. Mark my words.

Me: I hope all this fame doesn’t go to Dave’s head. It would be awful if he became all demanding and divaish.

Nell: That isn’t a word.

Me: You know what I mean.

Nell: All I can say is he’s in the kitchen now having his toenails painted by The Cat’s assistant.

Me: I didn’t know The Cat had an assistant.

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: No. Sorry.

Nell: That’s not our sofa.

Me: I know.

Nell: What’s Dave doing on there?

Me: That’s not Dave. It’s Toby. Isn’t he handsome?

Nell: Of course it has to be Toby. He lives with Tony the Postman and Sue.

Me: He looks awfully like a young Dave, doesn’t he?

Nell: He would do. My dear departed sister Maisie was his grandmother and her daughter Mist is his mother.

Me: I remember when they went missing and everyone was looking for them.

Nell: They went on a short adventure. It happens.

Me: Doesn’t it just.

Nell: You’ll be going on an adventure at the end of May.

Me: I will.

Nell: Flying off to Berlin to see Alice and the grandchildren.

Me: I can’t wait.

Nell: Celebrating two birthdays.

Me: Faye’s and Andre’s.

Nell: With no thought for those you’ve left languishing at home.

Me: That’s not fair, Nell. I haven’t been away since last August.

Nell: You went on a writing retreat in November.

Me: That was only to the Cottage Hotel.

Nell: Dogs fly on planes nowadays.

Me: Service dogs do.

Nell: I’m your companion. I live to serve.

Me: That’s a slight exaggeration.

Nell: Just saying.

Me: You’re not coming with me. You wouldn’t like flying and you’re needed at home.

Nell: It was worth a try. I miss them.

Me: They’re coming over for three weeks in August, so you’ll see them then.

Nell: Good.

Me: Why are you sitting at the top of the stairs?

Nell: I’m monitoring all Comings and Goings.

Me: Any particular reason?

Nell: Running this house is a full time job, you know. I can’t go swanning off to other countries whenever I like.

Me: You and Rupert went to France recently.

Nell: That was an emergency, but fair point.

Me: Sorry.