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"... had a very shiny nose!"

And, she's finished singing. For now. Next up, what's Fred's surname? His extension then? You know - the guy who collects the confidential waste. Perhaps one day we'll return to Evolution Versus Creation - the only serious thing we've discussed at length. (Especially now she has added ammunition there: a little book that shows her how her chosen religion has it all right, and how biology has it all all wrong.) But not yet. Instead, what should she cook for dinner tonight? Gotta be cheap, don't forget. Severed little yellow heads of baby chickens spring to mind. "Pasta and pesto," I say. Cue: questions about Italian food. Then, favourite food? And did I read that thing on the BBC site from earlier? Umm...

Next, "what do you think of Michael Moore?"

That's better. Smug, self-satisfied, fat, ugly. Someone who promotes provocative but limited facts and extreme opinions as some enlightened vision of contemporary history. Her view? "Don't know." Silence. Then, how do you make your own pesto?

Welcome to the conversations of my nine-to-five. Welcome to tentative forays into meaningless subjects, plucked from the internet and everyday life, like leaves plucked out on a solitary stroll around the wooded back-lanes: brief tokens of some contact with another living thing, soon dropped and forgotten. I spend more time with her than anyone else, fyi.