Lillibet darling, eating until you explode is not a plan. It isn’t even a strategy. Not a useful one, anyway. Yes I know, darling, it was all too terrible, but it won’t get better for brooding on it. You must simply brazen it out – no one can mention it unless you do. Well what does it matter what they say when you’re not there? They’ll forget in a while.
Yes, even about sheep interrupting a harp recital. No, I’m not laughing the least little bit, darling, though perhaps if you’d seen the Colonel’s face? No, no, of course not. It was just too bad of Sandy to even think of it.
Well then, we must make them forget. You did say the sheep are still penned behind the bandstand? And Sandy’s big supper is tomorrow? Then listen to Auntie Rosie, Lillibet darling. This is a plan.
Oh dear, I’m afraid Lillibet isn’t the least fearless, but I think she may improve radically under Auntie Rosie’s careful supervision. For more interpretations of the prompt follow the link, and give our generous host Angela Goff a rousing cheer in passing.