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Never go top school on an empty stomach.

Go on the bus.

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You Were Meant to Soar!!-June Brown ©

I was born in a chicken run, well actually in the dark coloured shed next to the plant pots, I think?

I was a fine looking chicken or so I thought, I had light whitish grey sort of fluffy down feathers back in those days, whilst my brothers and sisters were pale yellow, but I guess they looked sweet. I had three brothers and sisters. I often wondered why I was different!

Mother Hen looked after us from the day we were born, Grand Mother Hen said it was even before that, since Mother Hen sat on the eggs with us inside them, keeping us warm and willing for us to hatch. I wouldn't know about that.

I was happy enough in those early years. Feeding time was my most favourite, I was always first in the queue to the trough, my legs seemed more springy and stronger than my siblings. It used to infuriate my brothers and daily they would try to beat me to the food first, but they never succeeded.

Chasing each other round the run was great fun, it was quite exhausting keeping it up all day long, but there wasn't much else to do. I often wondered just why we were all there and what for. It wasn't long before discontentment set in and I got rather bored with it all. I knew deep down there was something very different about me.

The desire to fly never left me and I often tried, but I always crashed into the wire netting with my head.

Mother Hen used to screech at me, 'Boy, chickens don't fly, stop that, or you'll kill yourself!'

One time when we were allowed outside the run, I climbed onto a rock and tried to fly, I just about did it too, but the Farmer came and called us all in again. When I looked Mother Hen was shielding the eyes of my brother and sisters so that they wouldn't see me get hurt. Her stern look told me I was in trouble again.

I wanted to be obedient to my Mother, because I did love her so and I knew she really did love me and was only trying to take care of me and yet the thought of flying seem to possess me. I thought of nothing else. Another thing, I noticed my beak was rather long and pointed and my feet had huge nail type things on them. None of my siblings had those funny pointed things coming out of their toes. It was all very peculiar.

I couldn't speak human very well, but I could understand some of what they said. I remember the day when the tall man in a green shirt and trousers came into the run. He spoke in a strange accent, some of the hens said it was Irish. It just sounded human language to me with a strange lilt to it.

The man in green was talking to the Farmer and they were pointing over at me, saying something that sounded like 'the eaglet is doing well, it won't be long now.' What on earth were they saying, what was an eaglet anyway and why were they looking at me?

As the days followed the urge to fly got stronger and stronger, I could hardly contain myself. I thought about very little else. I began to get fed up with the same food everyday, the grain was now bland to my palette and I once hurt my sister as I pouched on her trying to fly and almost killed her. I was sent to solitary confinement in the chicken hut for a whole day. I spent my time exercising and spreading my wings and dreamed on. I never gave up believing in my dream, for I knew that I wasn't meant to be a chicken no matter what Mother Hen had said.

Finally it all got a bit too much and I did begin to doubt whether this was my lot in life, scratting around on the dirt for bits of corn meal, and watching others lay eggs. My sisters weren't any fun anymore for thafs all they seemed to do. Some others had gone out of the chicken run, they never returned, I don't know where they went.

It all seemed unfair and doom and gloom began to set it. I just had to keep a hold of my vision and my grandiose ideas of flying, I could feel myself soaring through the big blue yonder, swooping down and gliding in the warmth, feeling the wind under my wings. Wondering and wandering about what it was like up there in the vast sky, playing hide and seek in the clouds and getting a showered upon by the rain. I dreamt of nothing else at night and was becoming quite obsessed by it all that I almost could not see the reality of where I really was.

Then it happened. One sunny afternoon, the weather was warm, and there was a slight breeze, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the birds were singing a lovely song, the cuckoo was calling, some said it was spring. The apple blossoms on the nearby trees were falling to the ground giving the green of the grass a transformation of glorious pink and white colour. There was the most wonderful smell of the spring flowers and freshness in the air.

The Farmer arrived with another man who was dressed in a dark green shirt and green trousers with heavy boots upon his feet. He reminded me of the Irishman who was at the farm a few weeks before. He worn huge gloves upon his hands and carried a black cloth bag. I heard them talking in the distance and I got the distinct impression they were talking about me, for the one in green was pointing in my direction. I moved a little closer and I just heard the man in green say something about the eaglet being full grown now and it was time. What did they mean, I wondered. Then they came into the pen, I saw they were coming towards me, I tried to run but the man in green caught me and put the black bag over me, They secured me in a cage, a smaller version of the chicken pen, I didn't think it could get any worse that that. I couldn't see, my heart was pounding from the sheer experience of this trauma and yet I felt a kind of peace that I couldn't explain and I sensed there was no need to be afraid.

I heard doors banging and a strange sound that seemed to roar, we seemed to be moving but the man in green was no longer carrying me. Occasionally there was a bump or I felt as if I was moving side to side and yet I was secure, it was the strangest feeling. Then suddenly the noises stopped and along with them this feeling of moving. I heard doors opening again. They came for me and I had a sense I was being carried again. The air was fresh and there was a breeze.

The cloth was removed and I looked around, I could hardly believe what I saw, there was no more chicken pen, in fact I witnessed a vast open space. On my right were the mountains and to the left were rocks of every size and shape. This was just like in my dream. A magnitude of green colours of every shade all around, clear blue skies, I was in awe. The man in green took an old tree and place my feet upon it branch. My strange toes just seemed to curl round it naturally and I hung on. Then the Man clapped his hand together and I heard his voice thunder out against the wind 'Spread your wings and fly away.'

The noise of the clap of his hands caused me to jump and I found myself launching of the branch into the air, instinct told me open my wings and I spread them out as far as I could. I looked back and could see the two men in the distance they appeared to have shrunk they were so tiny they were like ants. Realising I was flying I was amazed. Oh what a wondrous sight be seen. I could see the tiniest of creatures on the ground below it was as if I had been given a new gift of sight, I could see the mouse scurrying around in the grassy fields and couldn't help thinking they might taste nice. I saw things that I had never seen or dreamed of before, locked in that pen.

I soon forgot about the men, Mother Hen, the chicken pen, my siblings and I just soared and glided feeling the warmth of the breeze under my wings. I perched on rocks and launched off again, each one getting higher than the last. I was free at last. What an amazing wonderful experience.

You see I wasn't a chicken.

This story written by June Brown was inspired by a Prophetic word for her at a conference. June learned God hadn't called her to be a Chicken but an Eagle.

A Chicken scrats around looking for food on the ground and its focus is on looking down and being satisfied with its lot in a Chicken pen, trapped by its surroundings yet not being really that bothered about it. It says I'm a Chicken and I cant help it because that is what Chickens do. Chickens are very vulnerable to predators both man and beast.

The Eagle on the other hand is a magnificent bird, with mighty vision to see their prey, they see the tiniest of creatures on the ground, nothing can hide from them. Eagles are not trapped in their environment, they spread their wings and fly fast, and meticulous, they have strong legs and very sharp pointed beaks so that they can hold on to their struggling prey, devouring it, The Eagle build their nests or eyrie on very high ground away from predators, possibly high up on a rocky crag up to 610m (2,000ft) above sea-level. Not • much can match them, for they are vigilant, fast and dangerous.

Spiritually I want to be that Eagle don't you.

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What's black and white and eats like a horse?

A Zebra.

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Crabby To The Rescue

At the seaside, in a large rock pool that can only be reached when the tide is fully out, there live many small creatures. Beneath the surface all seems well, but there has been a great storm during the night and it has dislodged a rock that closes off Craggy Crevasse. While the tide is in, no one notices, least of all the Anemone sisters, Rosemary and Scarlet who live on the rocky wall of the crevasse.

Down in the pool unaware of the danger, Willy Winkle was on his way to meet his friend Walter Whelk; they always met in the mornings, to go for a walk around the walls and to call in to see their friend Hermit Crab.

‘Good morning, Walter,’ Willy called when he reached No 2 Rock Ledge, the home of his friend.

‘Morning, Willy, nice day for our walk.’

Half way around the pool, they tiptoed past the Mussel beds and waved to Mrs Mussel, who had just managed to get all Three hundred of her children down for their mid-morning nap.

After the troubles they’d had in the past with Crabby Crab – he used to bully everyone, until Collin Conger gave him a fright – they avoided Crab Rock.

At Rock Ledge, they stopped for a while to pass the time of day with Stanley and Cynthia Starfish.

‘Good day, Mr Winkle and Mr Whelk,’ said Cynthia, blushing red; she was a little on the shy side and insisted on calling them both Mr, and they had given up trying to get her to call them by their first names.

‘Good day to you, Cynthia,’ called Willy.

‘Morning, Cynthia, you’re looking pretty today,’ said Walter, which only made her go and even brighter shade of red.

‘Morning Willy, morning, Walter, I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ said Stanley.

‘What?’

‘Tease my sister.’

‘I wasn’t teasing her, she does look very pretty this morning.’

‘I know, but she gets very embarrassed when people say so. ‘

They were interrupted by a low grinding noise; the tide was going out and the suction had moved the rock a little further from the crevasse wall, now the water was beginning to trickle from the pool.

‘Goodness me, what was that?’ cried Cynthia.

They stood in silence, listening, but the sound didn’t come again.

‘I’ve no Idea, but I’ll ask Hermit, he might know, we’ll see you later.’ Willy called, as he and Walter hurried off to see their friend, Hermit.

‘Did you hear that strange noise?’ Walter asked, when they reached their friend’s home in Weedy Grove.

‘I most certainly did,’ replied Hermit, ‘it seemed to come from Craggy Crevasse, I think we should go and investigate.’

The three friends set off at once and on reaching the crevasse, they asked Rosemary and Scarlet if they had heard the noise.

‘Yes, it gave me such a fright that I withdrew in shock,’ said Scarlet.

‘Do either of you know where it came from?’ asked Willy.

‘Yes,’ said Rosemary, waving her tentacles towards the back of the crevasse, ‘it came from down there somewhere.’

‘Come on, lads we better take a look,’ said Hermit.

Leaving the Anemones behind they moved further into the crevasse and began to feel a current moving past them. The deeper they went, the stronger the current became and soon they could barely stand.

‘What is it?’ shouted Willy, over the sound of rushing water.

‘There’s a leak and the water is running out of the pool, we better go back, before we get sucked away,’ said Hermit.

But as they turned and tried to go back they found that the current was too strong. All they could do was cling onto the nearest rock and hope that the current eased.

But instead of easing, the current grew stronger and they were sucked away one-by-one; the first to be swept into the gap was Hermit, which was lucky, because being the biggest, he managed to jam his shell against one side and his feet against the other, which left both claws free to grab his friends as they came flying by.

He had saved his friends, but for how long? he wondered. If he tried to move his feet they would all be sucked through the gap and if he tried to pull them out using his claws, he would have to let go of Willy and Walter. What was he going to do? He knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

At this point Crabby Crab arrived, ‘’Hang on,’ he said, as he scuttled sideways towards them, ‘When I say, now, let go,’ he said.

Then reaching out with his largest claw, he took a good strong grip on Hermit’s shell and shouted, ‘Now!’ Hermit let go and holding on tight, Crabby scuttled out of the crevasse. Once they were safely in the pool, he placed them gently on the bottom and without another word began to climb the rock wall.

Hermit was amazed, Crabby who had once been the biggest bully in the pool, had just saved them. ‘Wait,’ he called, ‘we want to thank you.’

‘I haven’t time; I have to get that rock back into place before all the water runs out of the pool,’ he said and continued to climb.

He climbed up out of the water and ran across the rocks surrounding the pool. Looking down when he reached the far side, he could see the water running out at one side of the rock, it was running out so fast that it looked like someone had turned on a tap.

Climbing down he squeezed himself into a gap beneath the front of the rock and placing his claws and feet on the ground, began to push upwards and back. At first nothing happened, but he pushed and pushed until finally the rock move back into place and the water stopped running out of the pool.

When he returned back to the pool, everyone cheered and they all agreed that Crabby was a hero, for coming to the rescue.

Copyright Fred Watson November 2007

How do you make a snake cry?

Take away it's rattle.

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KATIE, KRAW AND THE ROGUE DRAGON

‘That man there,’ hissed Lord Watherill. ‘Yes you, you idiot, get out of sight, he’s coming.’

Lord Watherill a squinty-eyed, sour-faced individual, and his henchmen had arrived midmorning and some of them – the ones with the nets – were hidden on the walls surrounding the castle yard. The rest all armed with long spears and ropes were in hiding down below, around the sides of the yard itself. They were waiting there to capture Katie’s dragon, Kraw.

(How come Katie has a dragon I hear you ask, well it’s a bit of a long story, but the short version goes like this. Kraw arrived at the orphanage during Katie’s ninth birthday party, he had been sent by the head of the guardian dragons to adopt her, but she refused his offer. However Kraw looked so sad that Katie relented and allowed him to adopt her, but only until she could find a proper mum and dad.)

Earlier when his Lord Watherill had arrived and said that he had come to arrest Kraw on charges of terrorising the countryside, Edward Morgan the town’s mild mannered Sheriff had protested. ‘But, My Lord, Kraw wouldn’t do such a thing, he has done nothing but help everyone since he came to the area, he even has a medal for saving the princess and he doesn’t breath fire.’

But Lord Watherill wouldn’t listen to him. ‘Look, sheriff a dragon has been eating sheep and cattle and burning down barns all over the county and the only dragon living in the county is this Kraw.’

‘But, Your Lordship, maybe the dragon that did all these terrible things flew in from outside the county.’

‘Impossible. Beside all the reports say that he flew in from this direction and then returned this way.’

‘But, Sire …’

‘No buts, Morgan, we are here to arrest this dragon and see that he is dealt with. Now stand aside and let us get on with the job in hand.’

It was a waste of time talking to Lord Watherill, he just wouldn’t listen; all that sheriff Morgan could do was to wait until Kraw was captured and then speak up for him when his case came before the judge. Thank goodness Katie is in school, at least she won’t be riding on his back when he is captured.

‘Ready men here he comes,’ cried Lord Watherill.

High above Kraw finished looping the loop, spun into a barrel roll, followed by a corkscrewing dive straight for the castle yard. Lord Watherill squawked and dived under a pile of hay as two tons of dragon sped towards him. The Sheriff, who was used to Kraw’s Aerobatics stood where he was and watched as Kraw came out of his last twist into a hover and then settled gently to the ground. ‘Good afternoon sheriff,’ he rumbled. ‘It’s a lovely day for flying don’t you think?’

Unfortunately the sheriff didn’t even have time to warn him, because within seconds Kraw was entangled in the nets thrown from above and bound tightly by the men hiding below. He roared and lashed his tail but that was the best he could do. He couldn’t even breath flames; he had given up eating coal since the day he had accidentally set fire to Rob Barley’s trousers – luckily they were on the washing line at the time.

‘What’s going on,’ he roared. ‘Why have you tied me up?’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Lord Watherill who had crawled out from under the hay and was now busy picking straw out of his hair. ‘You are under arrest for eating livestock i.e. Sheep and cattle, also you will be charged with burning down at least a dozen barns.’

‘Rubbish,’ Kraw roared, I only eat meat on a Sunday and I’ve given up breathing flames. I’m innocent, I tell you.’

‘I don’t believe you, but I am a fair man and you will get your chance to put your side before you are executed. Now sheriff, lock him in the dungeons until the dragon slayer arrives.’

‘But Sire, we can’t lock him in the dungeons, he’s too big to get through the doorway or down the stairs.’

‘Well lock him in the hall then, it has double doors and the windows are too small for him to escape through.’

So poor Kraw who was still bundled up in rope and nets, had to suffer the indignity of being dragged across the yard, up the stairs and into the old hall of the castle.

‘Sorry about this, Kraw,’ said Sheriff Morgan when they were out of Lord Watherill’s hearing. ‘But I’ll do what I can to help, just don’t ask me to set you free, it’s more than my job is worth.’

‘In that case can you let Katie know what has happened and I wouldn’t mind a snack, a sack of turnips would do nicely for now.’

After having a sack of turnips delivered to the hall, the sheriff made his way to the orphanage to catch Katie when she finished school.

At two o’clock the school doors opened and the sheriff stood to one side as the children poured out. Katie was easy spot, while she was a little smaller than the rest of her classmates; there was no mistaking her red hair, freckled nose and infectious grin.

The sheriff caught her eye and waved her over.

‘Hello sheriff,’ said Katie as she reached him. ‘Why the sad face?’

‘Because Kraw has been arrested for eating livestock and burning down barns and Lord Watherill has sent for the dragon slayer.’

‘That’s silly Kraw wouldn’t harm a fly, besides, since he stopped eating coal he can’t breath fire.’

I told Lord Watherill all that, but he wouldn’t listen, he has got it into his head that Kraw is guilty and is going to have him executed.’

‘He can’t do that!’ Katie cried. ‘We’ll send a messenger to the palace, the king won’t allow Kraw to be harmed.’

‘I’ve already sent a messenger, but it will take two days for the round trip and the dragon slayer will arrives soon.’

‘In that case we will have rescue Kraw ourselves.’

I’ll do what I can to help, but I can’t let Lord Watherill see me helping or I’ll lose my job.’

‘In that case you can distract the guards while I talk to Kraw.’

So that was what they did; while the sheriff kept the guards talking by the doors, Katie went around the side of the hall, dragged a box over to one of the windows and climbed up a whispered, ‘Are you there Kraw?’

‘Of course I am, Mistress I’m all tied up.’

‘Well, you won’t be there for long, I’ll be back as soon as it’s dark, I’ve got a plan to set you free.’

That night two figures, one small and slightly built, the other tall, broad, and carrying a sack, stole silently through the darkness at the side of the hall. On reaching a window the smaller of the two climbed onto a box and slipped through the opening. ‘OK, Jim pass the sack through.’

Jim the blacksmith did as he was told and there was a muffled thump followed by a cry of, ‘Ouch!’

‘You all right in there, Katie,’ he asked.

‘Yes, the sack was heavier than I thought and I had to let it drop that’s all. It’s best if you get off now Jim. I can manage from here.’

‘I’ll be off then,’ he said

But Katie didn’t reply she was too busy dragging the sack over to where Kraw could reach it. ‘There you are Kraw,’ she said as she took a knife from her belt and slit the sack open, allowing the coal to spill out. ‘You eat that, while I cut you free.’

Half an hour later Kraw was free, the coal had been consumed and they were ready. Katie climbed up onto Kraw’s back, gave the signal and the doors turned to ash, as a blast of blue flame incinerated the wood. Before the guards could recover from their surprise they were through the opening and climbing high into the night sky.

‘Thanks Katie, ‘rumbled Kraw. ‘Now I’ll drop you at the orphanage, then go and find this rogue dragon and clear my name.’

‘Hey, not so fast, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, I’m coming with you.’

‘But – but – but…’

‘Never mind, but, but, but, I’m coming with you and that’s that.’

Kraw sighed and gave in, Katie could be very stubborn when she set her mind on something and he knew it would be a waste of time trying to get her to change her mind.

‘We’ll spend the night in the barn and begin the search in the morning.’

‘Good idea Kraw, it’s so obvious that it’s the last place they’ll look, at least for tonight.’

The barn stood in the field next to the orphanage and Mrs Tolly, the lady who ran the orphanage had allowed Kraw to live there.

As soon as it was light they took off and began to search for the rogue dragon’s lair. By noon they had checked out the caves on Cob Hill, the old copper mine in Green Valley and drawn a blank at each. That only left Bramble woods and the forest. Bramble woods seemed the least likely, as it was impenetrable due to the brambles that gave it its name. But they decided to check it out anyway. Kraw circled the outside of the woods, but it was clear to them both that there was no way in or out at ground level and since the tree canopy was thick and unbroken, nor was there any from above.

As they moved off towards the forest something made Katie look back, ‘Hold on Kraw take a look at this.’

Kraw turned and looked back, ‘What am I supposed to be looking at?’ he asked.

‘That green patch in the tree canopy.’

‘Which one? The whole canopy is green.’ ‘There near the centre, the green is darker, sort of duller there.’

‘Oh, I see what you mean, let’s take a closer look.’

As they drew closer the patch seemed darker still and some of the leaves appeared to be drooping, ‘It’s an opening covered by branches,’ exclaimed Katie.

She was about to say more, but was interrupted as the patch of green exploded and through a blizzard of leaves they saw a large green shape shoot skywards. They had found the rogue dragon, now all they had to do was catch him. Kraw set off in pursuit and had almost caught up with the rogue, when he turned and attacked them. Flames belched towards them and Katie felt the heat as Kraw shot to one side and then dived towards the ground. ‘Get ready to jump,’ he called as he headed towards a haystack.

‘No, I’m not leaving you,’ Katie shouted.

‘Yes, you are! I can’t fight him properly if I have spend my time worrying that you might get hurt.’

Katie would have protested further, but as they drew level with the haystack Kraw twisted to one side, throwing her from his back into the hay and by the time she got to her feet, he was locked in combat with the other dragon high above. For an hour they streaked across the sky, first one in pursuit and then the other. Twisting and turning, looping and diving, as they blasted each other with great gouts of blue dragon flame. Finally they fought tooth and claw at close quarters until at the peak of the battle they became so closely entangle that they plunged to earth as one and when the resultant dust cloud settled, to Katie’s dismay both dragons lay still on the ground.

‘Kraw!’ she screamed as she raced over to where he lay.

Kraw lifted his head and groaned, ‘Oh, that hurt.’

‘Thank goodness, I thought for a moment that you were…’

‘What?’

‘I thought you were…God, you do look awful.’

‘If you think I look bad, you should see the other dragon,’

‘I have and he’s unconscious.’

‘Good, now all we need to do is get him back to town and clear my name. Hop on my back.’

Katie did as she was told and Kraw grabbed hold of the rogue and with mighty beats of his wings dragged him up into the air. It was a great strain and he could only manage to get six metres off the ground. It wasn’t very high but it would have to do and he set off for the town. Luckily they didn’t have to go far before they met Lord Watherill and his thugs, who were out searching for Kraw.

‘Here’s the dragon that has been causing all the trouble,’ said Kraw as he dropped the rogue at their feet. ‘You’d better bind him and get him to town before he wakes up.’

When Lord Watherill reached the town, late in the afternoon, he found himself under arrest by the king’s guard - who had arrived sooner than expected - and he and the rogue dragon were taken off to the palace. The sheriff and the townsfolk arranged a feast for Katie and Kraw. Lord Watherill became plain Mr Watherill when the king removed his title and the rogue dragon lived the rest of his life as a vegetarian, in the Royal Zoo.

Fred Watson

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The first sheep said, 'Baa.'

The second sheep said, 'I just knew you were going to say that.'

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BILLY

I had been looking forward to my trip to the town, but now I was fed up. We had been shopping all morning, we being, Mum, Grandma Dixon, Great Granny Wicks and me, and I was bored out of my mind. All I wanted to do was to read the new Tracy Beaker story grandma Dixon had bought me. Grandma, having seen that I was building up to a tantrum, suggested that granny Wicks sit with me on a bench, while she and mum finish shopping.

So there we were in the town, sitting on a bench, up from McDonalds, granny Wicks dozing in the warm sun, me deep into a really cool story. A small island of peace set in a sea, full of surging shoppers.

I shivered and looked up, the sun was shining, but I still felt cold. Then I saw the boy, he was sitting at the end of the bench with his head in hands, sobbing quietly,

‘You OK?’ I asked, only to be answered by silence. ‘Hello, are, you alright?’

I was about to begin reading again, when he raised his head, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said, ‘I- I can’t find my m-mum.’

I could see an angry scrape on his right cheek, the knuckles of his hand were skinned raw and dirt was ground into his top and jeans down his right hand side.

He spoke again in a dazed voice, ‘Have, you seen my mum? She’s got a red coat on.’

I was getting worried, I had read a story about someone who banged their head and lost their memory. Maybe the boy had fallen off his skateboard and banged his head; mind you, I couldn’t see a skateboard anywhere. I turned to granny Wicks, but she just sat there, double chin resting on her chest, snoring lightly.

‘I’m Rosie what’s your name?’ he gave me a blank look, so I tried again. ‘Are you lost?’

‘No, I just can’t find me mum.’

‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘In the Town.’ he said.

Well, I thought, at least he knows where he is, that’s a relief.

‘I’m nine. How old are you?’

‘Billy.’

‘What?’

‘Billy, that’s me name, I’m eight.’

I though for a moment he might smile, he didn’t. But it was cool; he hadn’t lost his memory, ‘You OK, then?’

A small fat woman, hands full of bags, headed for the empty seat beside him, but at the last minute veered away, looking puzzled.

‘No,’ he said mournfully. ‘I’ve been looking for hours and I can’t find her anywhere.’ And without another word he stood.

I watched him go, a lonely slump shouldered figure, in a street full of strangers. The funny thing was, people didn’t seem to see him, but still moved aside, parting as the sea parted for Moses in the bible. Except for one man facing the other way and Billy simply walked through him and disappeared. I stared, thinking I had made a mistake; he couldn’t have walked through that man, could he? But I knew he had, I’d seen it with my own eyes and if that was the case, how was he able to do it? There was only one answer I could think of and I didn’t really want to dwell on that thought. Luckily I was distracted by the arrival of Mum and Grandma Dixon laden with shopping bags.

‘Right let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving,’ said Mum.

We woke up Granny and made our way to McDonalds, as we walked I tried to tell them about the boy, Billy. But they were so busy talking about the clothes they had bought, that they weren’t listening.

I tried again once we had found a table; Mum had gone to get the meals, so I told Grandma Dixon, who only half listened, because Granny was talking in her other ear. Really, old people can be so rude; if I had butted in when Granny was speaking I would have been told off. I gave up then, I’d decided to tell Mum when we were on our own at home.

That didn’t stop me thinking about Billy; who was he? Where was his Mum? And did I really see him disappear into thin air?

We were on our way to catch the Metro home when I got the answers I was looking for. A man selling evening papers stood near the Metro entrance and on the board next to him was the headlines, ‘Boy crossing road to Mum, fatally injured by bus’

That confirmed what I suppose I’d known all along, poor Billy would never find his Mum now that he was a ghost.

Fred Watson

What is striped and goes around and around.

A zebra on a merry-go-round.

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Teddy One Ear and the Maze

‘Mum, can we go on a picnic?’ asked Katie.

‘What was that dear?’ asked mum, she had been so busy reading her magazine that she hadn’t heard Katie’s question.

‘Teddy and I were wondering if we could go on a picnic.’

Katie had never been on a picnic before, in fact she didn’t even know what a picnic was until Teddy One Ear had told her all about the ones that he and his teddy bear friends used to have in the woods.

‘Certainly we can, but it’s too late today, so we will go tomorrow. Why don’t I ring Aunty Mary and see if she and Lucy want to come?’

‘Ooo, Yes please mum, that would be great,’ cried Katie and she began to dance around the room clapping her hands with joy. Aunty Mary was mums sister and Lucy her daughter was Katie’s cousin and her very bestest friend in the whole world along with Teddy. ‘And mum, ask Lucy to bring Belinda.’

Belinda bunny was Lucy’s favourite cuddly toy and even though she was a little on the quiet side, Teddy said he liked her very much.

The next morning after breakfast Katie helped mum to make the sandwiches for the picnic, while Teddy sat on a chair and watched. They made ham salad ones for mum and aunty Mary and cheese spread ones for Katie, and Lucy. After wrapping the sandwiches in some kitchen foil, Katie’s mum placed them in the picnic basket along with fairy cakes, hard-boiled eggs, a flask of tea for the mums and a bottle of juice for the children.

After placing the picnic basket in the boot of the car, they called around to pick up Lucy and Aunty Mary and then they drove to the park. It was a bright sunny day and they ate their picnic sitting on the grass near to the boating lake. The picnic was lovely and after they had eaten, they cleared up, put the rubbish in the litterbin and walked over to feed the ducks. There were lots of ducks, some were big, some were smaller and some were cute little baby ducklings. Mum and Aunty Mary threw pieces of bread to the larger ducks, but Katie and Lucy broke their bread into tiny pieces and threw them to the cute little baby ducklings.

When they had used up all the bread they walked around the lake to the play area and while Katie, Lucy, Belinda and Teddy played on the banana slide, seesaw and all the other things, mum and aunty Mary sat on a bench to watch.

After about an hour mum called, ‘Come on girls we’ll get an ice cream and then got to see the rabbits.’

‘Teddy says can we have just two more turns on the seesaw, mum,’ said Katie.

‘OK, but I thought you wanted to see the rabbits,’ ‘We do, we do, but Belinda would like two more turns too and then we’ll come,’ said Lucy.

After the two turns, the girls, pleaded for one more go and then another, but when they asked for the third time, mum and aunty Mary both laughed and mum said, ‘Certainly, but if you want an ice cream you will have to come now or he will have none left.’

‘We’re coming,’ cried the girls.

When they reached the ice cream van aunty Mary said, ‘Tell the man what you want girls.’

‘I would like an ice cream cornet with raspberry sauce on, please,’ said Katie.

‘Me too,’ cried Lucy.

‘And we’ll have an ice cream cornet with a chocolate flake, each,’ said Aunty Mary. They began to eat their ice creams as they walked to where the rabbits were, which was at the other side of the park, and had finish them by the time they arrived.

To Katie and Lucy pets corner looked like someone had placed a giant birdcage on the ground. It was round and it was high and while the upper part was filled with beautiful bird, the bottom was filled with rabbits and guinea pigs. Lots and lots of them, of all shapes and sizes; there were black ones, white ones and ones that were black and white, and seven little brown and white baby bunnies that hopped around their brown and white mummy. Katie and Lucy loved the little bunnies and would have stayed watching them all night, but mum said it was time to go to the maze.

Katie and Lucy had never heard of a maze, ‘What is a maze?’ They asked.

‘Well,’ said mum. ‘It is like one of those puzzles in your puzzle book, you know the one’s where you have to find your way through to the other side. Only in a real maze you can’t see where you are going because the paths have high hedges on each side.’

‘But Mum if we can’t see where we are going won’t we get lost?’ asked Katie.

‘No, when Aunty Mary and I were girls, we used play in a maze just like this one and we never ever got lost. So shall we go in?’

Lucy smiled and nodded her head, Katie said ‘Yes,’ and they all went into the maze. With Aunty Mary leading the way they soon reached the middle of the maze. Now all they had to do was find their way to the other side and that was when things went wrong. They had been walking for ten minutes when Katie asked, ‘Mum, are we lost?’

‘No dear, why do you ask?’

‘Because Teddy says we passed this opening five minutes ago.’

‘Well, Teddy must be wrong, because we are not lost.’

‘Mum,’ Katie said ten minutes later, ‘Teddy says we’ve passed that opening again.’

‘Teddy must be mistaken; all the openings look the same.’

Ten minutes later mum begun to look worried, ‘I think Teddy is right, I think we are lost.’

‘It’s alright Mum Teddy says he’ll show us the way if you lift us onto your shoulders.’

Mum lifted Katie onto her shoulders and Katie held Teddy high in the air so he could see which way to go and by following his directions they soon reached the other side of the maze.

That night when Katie and Teddy were in bed, mum got busy on her sewing machine and the next morning Teddy had a new red jacket, with a badge on the pocket that said, “Guide”.

‘Mum, what does “Guide” mean?’ asked Katie.

‘It means someone who can show you the way, so that you don’t get lost,’ said mum.

Fred Watson.

Why was the computer tired when it got home?

Because it was a hard drive.

_________________________________________________________

The Year That Christmas Came Twice

We were sitting in the old armchairs inside our camp deep in the middle of the elderberry bushes at the bottom of St Mary’s churchyard. There was only, me skinny Geordie Miller, and my best friend, freckle features Frankie Dodds. We had taken a pile of comics with us and had spent the last hour rereading old copies of the Beano and Dandy in peace. It was summertime and if either of us were to sit down indoors reading, there would be ructions on. Our mothers – Frankie’s was as bad as mine – would start, ‘Put that comic down now. And get yourself out to play in the sunshine.’

I don’t know what it is with mothers, but they’re always throwing you out into the street when you don’t want to go. If it was chucking it down with rain and we wanted to go plodging though puddles or building dams in the stream, the cry would be, ‘Don’t you even think of going out in that. Go and read your comics.’

You can’t win can you?

Anyway, I was reading a cracking Desperate Dan story and having a giggle at his antics, when Frank said, ‘Remember when we had two Christmas’s?’

I was so deep into Desperate Dan that only the last word registered, ‘Christmas? We’ve only just started the summer holidays and now you’re on about Christmas.’

‘Naw, if you washed your lugs out and listened properly, I said, remember when we had two Christmas’s?’

‘Course I do. It was great wasn’t it, all them toys.’

We both sat there all starry-eyed thinking about all those toys, more than we’d ever had in our lives. So many in fact, that we did the unthinkable and gave a lot of them away.

‘Aye, I remember it was a grand year that one,’ said Frankie, wistfully.

‘I remember? You sound like me dad, it was only two years ago,’ I reminded him.

‘Aye, but we were younger then.’

I couldn’t fault his powers of deduction there. We were younger by two years and since we were now ten, we had to have been eight then.

It was the Easter school holidays when it happened and on the Monday before Good Friday, Frankie came around ours, ‘Can George come out to play Mrs Miller?’

Frankie was no fool; he always used my Sunday name when talking to my mum.

Yes,’ she said and leaned back into the house, ‘George, Frankie’s here.’

‘And bring your marbles,’ Frankie called.

Frankie and me had bought a six-penny bag of marbles each, from Pearson’s corner shop on Saturday morning and were learning ourselves how to play. We reckoned that if we got enough practice during the holiday, we’d be experts by the time we got back to school.

I pulled on me jumper, grabbed the bag of marbles and headed for the door followed by familiar words from me mum, ‘Stay in the garden, I’ve got to go up the High Street later on and I don’t want you wandering off.’

We go around to the back garden but the overnight rain has turned the patch of clay we were using for a pitch into a slimy mess. So we move the bin out of the way and play on the wide part of the path in front of the washhouse. An hour later I’m feeling hungry so I open the back door, ‘Can we have something to eat mum.’

A few minutes later she hands us jam sandwiches an a couple of glasses of Ginger Beer, poured from the big stone jug that she buys off the pop man every Friday.

‘I’m off to the shops now, so no wandering off.’

‘Aw, mum we was going to go down to the park and play on the teapot lid.’

The park is only at the bottom our lane and is a large field that our school uses for sports days. But the council has built a new playground in one corner, with swings, slide and best of all a roundabout that from a distance looked like a teapot lid.

‘All right, but no further, I don’t want to have to send your dad looking for you when he comes in from work.’

It being the school holidays the park was mobbed and we couldn’t get near the teapot lid. We had a couple of goes on the slide instead and then hung around the swings waiting for someone to come off.

‘Howay, let’s go to the tip,’ said Frankie.

‘Don’t know, you heard what me mum said. She might just send me dad down when he comes in for his tea and if I’m not here, I’ll be in for it.’

‘Come on, we’ll be back long before then, besides most of the kids will be going home for their teas later and we’ll be able to get a good go on the teapot lid.’

At the far end of the park there was an old ash track that ran up to the railway line and the disused pit next to it. All of the land at the other side of the ash track used to belong to the pit, and since it dipped down into a hollow, the council were busy filling it in with rubbish.

The tip was one of our favourite haunts. We normally went there on the weekend when it was shut. If you could call a tip that was surrounded by a fence with great massive holes in it shut. No what I mean by shut is that there was no men working on a weekend to chase us away. You’d be amazed at the really great stuff that gets thrown on the tip. Nearly all the lads in the area got their boogie wheels from the tip, and most of the wood to build them too.

We raced each other to the end of the park – I won, mainly because my legs are longer than Frankie’s – and stared in wonder, we’d never seen the tip so busy. There were wagons queuing up to tip their loads. A wagon would back up drop his load at the edge of the tip and drive away and before the next wagon had finish tipping, a bulldozer would push the first lot over the edge. It was the stuff that was being dumped that had us all bug eyed. Wagonload after wagonload of toys came cascading down the face of the tip like a rainbow coloured wave of delight.

I had heard me mum say that there had been a fire in a big toy warehouse belonging Johnston’s department stores. But I never believed that they would dump all the water and smoke damaged toys on our tip.

The last wagon dropped its load; the bulldozer pushed it over the edge and retreated from sight. We rushed across the track and were about slip through the fence when with a roar and a great puff of smoke the bulldozer reappeared. Oh no, it was pushing a great wall of ash and rubble over the edge, burying all those wonderful toys forever. To even attempt to get any of the toys while he working was to risk being buried alive. All we could do was to stand there and watched in dismayed and silence as he trundled back and forth covering section after section.

Then when he was only half done a miracle happened, the bulldozer drove back out of sight and the engine died. We looked at each other, both of us thinking the same, but it was me that said it first, ‘The drivers having his tea break,’

‘Aye, come on, let’s get some toys while he’s away,’ whooped Frankie as he dived through the hole in the fence and set off at a run. I passed him before he was halfway there – told you I had longer legs than him – and bagged my first toy, a steam roller, I examined it closely it was wet but I reckoned that if I dried it off in a warm oven and then squirted some oil in, it would be fine.

‘Geordie, stop messing with that roller, the driver won’t be on his break long, we need to get as many toys as we can before he comes back.’

From then on we just grabbed anything and everything, carried them away from the tip face and hid them under a bush by the fence. We must have made four or five trips each with our arms full, before the Bulldozer returned.

Hidden under the bush with our loot, we stared in awe at the mountain of toys we have accumulated. ‘We need something to carry them in,’ I said, stating the obvious.

‘Aye, you guard the loot and I’ll go and get the tank.’

All the other lads around the doors had a boogie that you could steer around corners. But not Frankie and me, we had the tank and it only went in a straight line. It consisted of a set of four wheels complete with frame and springs from one of them big old-fashioned prams and had an old galvanise bath that we liberated from the allotments, fitted between the springs. The bath, which was long and narrow, was held in place with lumps of wood and bent over nails. We called it the tank because when we first tried it down Willow Bank, we smash through the allotment fence at the bottom, and flattened two rows of Mr Parker’s Brussels sprouts before coming to a stop.

While Frankie was away I sorted through the toys removing them from damp boxes and shaking them to get rid of any water. The assortment of toys was amazing wind ups of every kind, tanks, police cars, aeroplanes, trains, cars and lorries. There were even toy soldiers, trumpets, a couple of fire engines and a wind up monkey that banged on a drum. You’ll notice that they were all boys’ toys, well; you wouldn’t really expect us to go picking dolls and stuff, would you?

When Frankie arrived back we loaded the lot into the tank and went home, missing out the teapot lid, only to get the fifth degree. The upshot was that we got a skelping from our respective dads for going to the tip. But in the end, sooner than making us take them back to the dump, we were allowed to keep the toys.

Aye, Christmas did come twice that year and not only for us, we gave loads of the stuff away and lots of the other kids around the doors had a double Christmas too.

Fred Watson.

____________________________________________________________

What sits in the middle of the world wide web?

A very, very, very big spider.

__________________________________________________________

Katie, Kraw And The Princess

Katie whooped with joy and tightened her grip on the harness as Kraw streaked skywards. Up, up they sped, bursting through the clouds and up into the blue sun filled sky beyond. Kraw climbed higher and higher until looking down there was no sign of the earth below. Just an unbroken carpet of cloud that looked like she imagined the snow covered north to be. Then she whooped again as Kraw did a double loop the loop and then corkscrewed back down through the clouds again.

Katie was nine and a half years old and lived in the orphanage run by Mrs Tolley. Kraw was a three metre high dragon from the mountains of the moon that had sort of adopted Katie on the day of her ninth birthday.

As they burst through the bottom of the clouds, Kraw turned his head and said in his deep rumbling voice, ‘See I told you my navigational skills were excellent, we’re spot on course.’

Katie hated to admit it – Kraw could get such big head at times – but he was right they had come out of the clouds directly over the road. ‘OK, OK, I agree you’re the worlds greatest navigator. But don’t you think you should look where you’re going before crash into that tree?’

Kraw gave loud squawk and turned to look forward again. ‘Ha! Ha! Very funny we’re at least a hundred metres above the trees.’

‘Not those trees down there, idiot, the one in front of you, on top of the hill.’

If anything Kraw’s squawk was louder this time and Katie hung on as he jinked to the left to avoid the collision. ‘Phew! That was close,’ he gasped. ‘Now, where were we?’

‘Looking for Princess Mariva.’

Princess Mariva was meant to have opened the new school, next to the orphanage at ten o’clock that morning and when she hadn’t turned up by eleven, the mayor got himself into a panic. He ran around wringing his hands and crying, ‘Oh dear, oh dear, where has she got too, I hope she isn’t lost.’

‘Calm down Mr Mayor, I’ll call out a search party,’ said the Sheriff. ‘In the meanwhile, Katie, could you and Kraw go out and see if you can spot her.’

And so here they were. ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Kraw. ‘We’d better move on then, there’s no sign of her here.’

Kraw had a habit of stating the obvious, but he was right, the road beneath them was empty and they would have to search further along the road. ‘Let’s go then,’ she said.

Half an hour later they had searched the road as far as Dobbs End and when they’d questioned the town guard, he told them that the princess and her escort had passed through there two hours before. Well, thought Katie as they doubled back – this time flying lower and slower – at least we know that the princess got this far.

‘Whoa, Kraw, bring us down over there,’ Katie said pointing to the forest on their right. ‘I’ve just glimpsed something shining amongst those trees.’

Kraw landed and they pushed through the trees, at least Kraw pushed through the trees, Katie being smaller slipped between them easily. They didn’t have to go far before finding the shining object. It was a jewelled dagger lying in the grass and beyond the dagger they found princess’s bodyguards, all four of them gagged and tied to a tree. In a slash of a dragon’s claw they were freed and after spitting out his gag, Sir Dwain, the knight in charge, told them what happened.

‘As you know we were escorting princess Marina,’ said Sir Dwain. All was going well until we heard cries for help coming from amongst the trees. I wanted to hurry the princess away to safety, but she insisted that we leave her on the road and go to help whoever was in trouble. Unfortunately we walked straight into an ambush. A net dropped down from the trees, we were clubbed on the heads and when we came too we were bound to that tree.’

‘And the princess?’ asked Katie.

‘I don’t know, Mistress, but the men who attacked us wore the uniform of soldiers belonging to the Black Knight, so he must have taken her for ransom.’

‘Where can we find this Black Knight?’

‘He lives to the east, Mistress far beyond the forest, if you hurry you should catch him before he reaches his castle.’

‘Ok, wait at the roadside and tell the sheriff where we’ve gone,’ said Katie as she and Kraw took to the air.

It took an hour of steady flying to leave the forest behind and another half an hour before they spotted the group of horsemen in the distance. ‘Up Kraw,’ cried Katie. ‘Get as high as you can so that they don’t see us coming.’

With great powerful beats of his wings Kraw obeyed and within minute they were looking down on the horsemen below. There were seven of them six men at arms and one man in armour, ‘That must be the Black Knight,’ said Katie. ‘And that’s the princess on the horse behind him.’

‘Hang on tight Katie, I’ll soon sort this lot out,’ cried Kraw and he folded his wings and dived towards the figures on the ground. He dropped like a stone in silence, at the last minute opened his wings, plucked the Black Knight from his horse and dropped him on top of his men. Next he lifted the princess onto his back next to Katie and set off for home.

The sheriff captured the Black Knight and his men, whose horses had bolted, leaving them on foot. The princess opened the new school. Katie and Kraw were invited to a party given in their honour at the palace and were presented with medals by the king.

Fred Watson July 2008

What's black and white and makes a terrible noise?

A penguin playing the bagpipes.

______________________________________________________

GREETINGS FROM GRASSY GILL

The rain descended on the hill;

Morning time in Grassy Gill.

Cyril Squirrel, Jake the Drake,

And Ossie Owl were wide awake.

.

"Good Morning, Cyril", quacked Jake, half joking,

"For ducks, not squirrels,- my nuts are soaking!"

"He's a drake," hooted Ossie Owl

"But I'll admit, the weather's 'foul'!"

.

"Don't be pompous," Barked 01lie Collie

"Here, Cyril- take my brolly".

"Thank you kindly," Cy. replied,

"I'll return it when my nuts have dried!"

.

Cy. scurried off to move his hoard,

To see his treasure safely stored.

And 01lie too, went on his way-

He'd many sheep to pen that day.

.

Ossie yawned, blinked and fled.

For him, morning was the time for bed.

And so with everybody gone,

Jake was left to swim alone.

Jay T. Kay.

_______________________________________________________

Who's faster than a speeding bullet and full of food?

Super Market.

____________________________________________________________

A TRIFLE TROUBLE

‘Ooh! It looks gorgeous,’ drooled Jess, a hungry look on her face.

I nodded my head in agreement, ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It looks delicious.’

Jess’s eyes gleamed, or maybe it was the reflected light from the refrigerator, ‘Did your mum make it?’ she asked a note of awe in her voice.

‘No it was me,’ I said, putting on my best innocent smile.

‘You never did, you’re a big fibber Bethany Green.’

‘I did so.’

‘Liar, liar, tongues on fire.’

‘No it’s not,’ I said, sticking out my tongue and touching the tip to my nose.

‘Yuk, that is horrible, and you still didn’t make it.’

‘Alright, alright, mum made it last night.’

All the time we had been talking we had been staring into the refrigerator. The object of our desire was a magnificent trifle that sat on the middle shelf.

We had moved from an upstairs flat into the new prefabricated bungalow a month earlier and mum, who was used to a stone slab in the pantry, had fallen in love with the new refrigerator in the kitchen. No more daily shopping for her after work. She now did the majority of her shopping on a Saturday and any perishables that she bought; she would place in the magical gas operated larder, to be kept for days without spoiling. But that wasn’t all, she could now prepare meals or special treats, like the trifle, the night before, place them in the magic box and hey presto they would appear on the table when she came home from work the next night.

‘I don’t suppose we could…?’ asked Jess.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warned. ‘If we touch it before mum comes home, she’ll kill us.’

I can’t say I wasn’t tempted, because I was, all that fruit filled red jelly topped off with a thick layer of cream, sprinkled with hundreds and thousands made my mouth water. Reluctantly I closed the refrigerator door and we went into the sitting room to read our comics until mum got home.

A little while later Jess looked up from her copy of Playbox and said, ‘Maybe your mum wouldn’t notice if we tried just a spoonful?’

‘I don’t…’ I began and then gave in to the temptation. ‘Oh, all right, but just a teeny little one.’ I should have known better, one spoonful led to another and of course we had to have piece of fruit each. We hadn’t eaten more that a few spoonfuls, but there was a small and seriously deep hole in one side of the trifle. Oh, my God what was I going to do now? I looked at the clock, thank goodness, mum wouldn’t be home for another hour yet, ‘Quick, ‘ I said. ‘You look in the cupboards on that side and I’ll look in these one’s, see if you can find any strawberry jelly.’

We searched everywhere but all we found was one single square of raspberry jelly. It would do, it was red after all. Having watched mum the night before I knew just what to do. While Jess put on the kettle, I got out a basin, placed the square of jelly inside and when the kettle boiled poured on some of the water and as if by magic I had for the first time in my life made some jelly. After carefully poring the jelly into the hole in the trifle, I let it stand, while I washed up and put away the basin and the spoon.

‘What are you going to do about the cream?’ Asked Jess.

‘If the jelly sets a little, I’ll scrape some off the top and fill the hole with it.’

‘And if it doesn’t set?’

‘I’ll just have to scrape it over and hope for the best.’ I said as I placed the trifle back into the Refrigerator.

Twenty minutes later I took the trifle from the refrigerator; the jelly was nearly set, so I spread the cream across until it filled the hole and then shrieked, as I realised that the hundreds and thousands had disappeared into the cream. We searched the cupboards again, but there were none.

‘I’ll run to ours and see my mum has any,’ said Jess

‘You’ll have to be quick then,’ I said. ‘Mum will be home in ten minutes.’

I had almost given up on her when she burst though the door, handed me a packet of hundreds and thousands and cried breathlessly, ‘Quick! Quick! Your mum’s coming.’

Within seconds the trifle was sprinkled, placed in the refrigerator with the raspberry side to the back and we were sitting reading our comics when mum walked through the door, ‘Had a good day at School girls?’

‘Yes mum, yes Mrs Green,’ we chorused, as her hung up her coat.

‘Good,’ she said, disappearing into the kitchen and calling back, ‘Your tea won’t be long.’

Shortly afterward dad came in and by the time he’d had a quick wash the tea was ready. We had hot pot and when mum brought in the trifle jess and I held hands under the table while it was dished out, we needn’t have worried mum didn’t notice a thing. Mind you, dad, who got the last portion, did ask mum what flavour the jelly was, and when she said strawberry, commented that he thought it tasted like raspberry.

Fred Watson.

Why did the penguin cross the ice?'

To get to the other slide.

_________________________________________________________

Teddy One Ear And The Snow

Katie jumped out of bed, ran over to the window and opened the curtains. The inside of the glass was covered in a beautiful silvery pattern. ‘Teddy one ear’ ‘come and look, the window is covered in stars.’

Teddy One Ear – he had been called that ever since horrid Barney the cat had chewed off one of his ears – didn’t move, he just sat in the middle of the bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin, smiled his lopsided smile and looked back at her with his bright button eyes.

‘Come on lazy bones,’ said Katie as she pulled back the covers and picked him up. ‘Don’t be a silly Teddy; it’s not that cold. I’ve only got my Jim-jams on and you’ve got all that lovely warm fur.’

Katie took Teddy to the window and held him up so he could see the window. ‘Yes I know, it looks all sparkly… like stars.’

They stood for a while looking at the beautiful icy pattern on the glass, then Katie said, ‘What’s it like outside? I don’t know?… Why don’t you rub some of the ice away with your paw and then you will see. ’

Teddy didn’t make a move, so Katie placed his paw on the window and rubbed away a small circle of ice and they looked through. Everything was covered in white, the trees, the garden, and best of all so was the big hill in Mr Thompson’s field. ‘Ooh! Look at all the snow!’ cried Katie.

Teddy didn’t reply. ‘Oh! You’re so huffy, just because I rubbed your paw on the window…What? Oh alright, give me your paw and I’ll rub it for you.’

Katie sat Teddy on the bed, took his paw into her two hands and rubbed gently until it felt warm. ‘Is that better?’ she asked. ‘Good…OK, I’ll ask.’

Katie went out onto the landing and called downstairs. ‘Mum Teddy wants to know if we can go sledging today.’

‘Why don’t you get ready, have your breakfast and then we’ll see.’

‘But Mum Teddy really, really wants to go sledging today.’

‘Well, tell Teddy to get washed, including behind his ear and clean his teeth.’

After getting dressed Katie picked up Teddy and made her way downstairs.

‘Good morning Katie, good morning Teddy,’ said mum when they reached the kitchen. ‘Sit at the table and I’ll get you some breakfast.’

Katie placed two cushions on one of the chairs, sat Teddy on the cushions, so he was high enough and then sat in another chair.

‘Now, would you like Cocopops or a nice boiled egg for breakfast?’

‘Teddy and I are not hungry this morning, we just want to go sledging.’

‘What did I tell you both before?’

‘Aw! Mum, you said you’d think about it after breakfast, but Teddy say’s couldn’t you think about it now?’

Mum shook her head.

‘Oh, all right then, Teddy and I would like Cocopops,’ said Katie.

Mum placed two small bowls of Cocopops on the table, one in front of Katie and one in front of Teddy and said, ‘If you eat those all up, I will take you out sledging.’

‘Hooray!’ said Katie, as she picked up her spoon. It didn’t take her long to empty her bowl, but when she looked across the table, Teddy hadn’t eaten any of his. ‘Come on Teddy, eat them up, or mum wont let us go sledging…Oh all right… if you can’t. It’s a good job mum only gave us small bowls, I’ll eat yours.’

‘All finished Mum, said Katie.

Mum looked at the two empty bowls and said, ‘Good, now we can go sledging.’

‘Hooray!’

Mum and Katie wrapped up warm, Katie and Teddy sat on the sled and mum pulled them down the path, over the road, across the field and all the way up the hill. On reaching the top mum sat on the sled behind Katie and they flew down faster than the wind, Wheeee! All day they went up and down the hill, until finally mum said, ‘It’s time to go home for tea.’

‘One more time! One more time! Please! cried Katie.

‘Oh, all right, but this is the last,’ said mum, and she pulled them up to the top and they flew down again. When they reached the bottom Katie said, ‘Just one more go, pretty please?’

‘No, it’s time for tea, said mum. ‘And just look at Teddy he’s all wet and cold. We’ll go sledging again tomorrow.’

While mum made the tea, Katie put Teddy on the radiator, to get dry and warm.

The next morning was Christmas Eve and Katie came downstairs without Teddy.

‘Where’s Teddy?’ asked mum.

‘He’s in the huff, he said that he got too wet yesterday and he isn’t going sledging today.’

‘Never mind Princess, we’ll go ourselves, maybe tonight Santa will leave him a nice present to cheer him up and he might come sledging with us tomorrow.’

On Christmas morning Katie and took Teddy downstairs and he sat watching as she opened her presents. There were jigsaws, games, a bike and a pram, she didn’t ask for a doll, because she had Teddy, and she could take him for rides in the pram. When she had finished there were three parcels left and they were all addressed to Teddy One Ear. ‘Ooh! These are yours Teddy. Shall I open them?’

Teddy smiled his little smile and his little button eyes shone.

Katie unwrapped the first parcel; it contained a bright yellow waterproof jacket and a pair of trousers to match. Inside the second was a cherry red hat with a pompom and matching scarf and gloves. And best of all, inside the last parcel was a tiny pair of red Wellington boots.

‘Do you think Teddy likes his presents?’ asked mum.

‘Yes Mum, he says, can we go sledging now?’

Fred Watson.

________________________________________________________

Why did the fish cross the sea?

To get to the other tide.

_________________________________________________________

BROTHERLY LOVE

I don't think she likes me but I really don't know why

She whispers, "you are useless" whenever she walks by.

I'm really very clever, I can nearly tie my shoe

Dad said that was clever - and so it must be true,

I wonder what that thing is on my bedroom wall

It looks different every night - can’t make it out at all,

Mum said it was a shadow made by the fading light

But sometimes it's a worm, and sometimes it's a kite,

I wish I could have one I went and caught one twice

But mum cant stand creepy things and squashed them in a trice,

.

She tells my daddy everything and often makes me squirm

But buttons have to be pushed in and knobs were made to turn,

I know my granddad likes me, he bought me my bike

He says I'm his bonny lad, but sometimes a little tyke

No she doesn't like me my sister Ann Marie

"I hope you didn't buy him, you could have got him free'",

That was what she said to mum who wasn't very pleased

"You have to be more patient dear, you know he's only three",

I thought I was more than that my Granny says I'm tall

And I don't really cry that much - at least unless I fall,

.

I went and turned the hosepipe on to scatter all the birds

The water sprayed the man next door who said a naughty word

I wonder what the ‘limit’ is, I heard them talking fast

"I don't care what you say my dear he really Is the last",

I wonder if God really Is right up there in the air

Aunty Mary says he is, but Daddy doesn't care,

I wonder where the cat went he caught my little mouse

So I chased him up garden path and right around the house.

He was my friend that little mouse and I liked him a lot

My sister didn't like him but she talks a lot of rot,

.

I set the washer off today and watched it all go round

It looked just like the seaside but it had a different sound,

Then my mum was vexed and she threatened me with bed

Just because I laughed when Grandad bumped his head.

Sometimes I play up at night and get mum in a stew

She tells my dad "Its your turn now let's see what you can do"

Then Dad comes up and cuddles me and gets some pennies out

There's silver ones and brown ones - I think its quite a lot.

He says good night and God bless and then I start to yawn

But I play with all the pennies as soon as he's gone down,

I'll bet he doesn't give them to my sister Ann Marie

But If he does I'll find them - just you wait and see

SHIRLEY THOMPSON

What do you get if you cross a master criminal with a fish?

The Codfather.

_______________________________________________________

Who’s There?

‘Who’s there?’ I squeaked, it had been meant to come out as a challenge, but it never works out that way when you’re scared. I was alone in a two-man tent in the dark, in a small field at the back of St Mary’s churchyard and I was scared.

Frankie and me had decided to camp out for the weekend. We’d pitched the tent after tea on the Friday night, played football until it got dark and then crawled into the tent. But Frankie, being Frankie, had decided that he was hungry and had gone off to get something to eat, leaving me on me own. With nothing else to do I pumped up the Tillylamp and layback on the blankets.

That was when I heard the noise; it came from the direction of the churchyard wall. A couple of soft thumps followed by a scrabbling noise as something climbed out of the churchyard and then a thud as it dropped to the ground. Oh God, something had crawled out of the churchyard and it was in the field only about fifteen yards away from the tent. I sat there in a funk, I hadn’t a clue what to do, but one thing was certain, there was no way I was going to go out there in the dark. After the initial noises, all was quiet and I couldn’t help scaring myself even further by thinking; it was as silent as the grave.

The silence didn’t last however and a few moments later I heard it moving stealthily through the grass, there was no sound of footfalls only what sounded like a cross between a slither and a swish, slwish …slwish… through the grass as it came nearer and nearer. Slwish… slwish… slwish, it reached the side of the tent where I was sitting and I scurried to the other side. Slwish… slwish… slwish, it was on the move again, this time towards the front of the tent. The slwishing stopped for a moment and I slid into the corner at the back expecting it to come bursting in through the flaps. But instead it began to move again, this time down the other side of the tent towards me. Slwish… slwish, I was frozen in place, slwish… slwish, I managed to unfreeze and move but you can’t move far in a two-man tent. The slwishing stopped directly opposite where I sat quaking. No more than two feet of air and a thin piece of canvas separated me from whatever was out there.

I stared at the canvas and wished I had x-ray vision to see what it was, and then cancelled the wish. I didn’t want to know, instead I just wished for it to go away. This time the silence went on and on. Then just as I was beginning to believe that my wish had been granted, the bottom edge of the tent slowly lifted and a hand came through. The fingers were covered in a horrible green mould and beneath the nails black dirt was crusted. I whimpered as it scrabbled towards my leg and kicked out. The hand withdrew and the slwishing began again. This time, I knew it was coming for me, slwish… slwish… slwish, It was at the front now and I could see the canvas moving as it undid the ties that held it closed. I looked around for a weapon to protect myself, anything would do, but there was nothing, other than the Tillylamp and the football we’d been playing with.

Picking up the football with both hands I swung it back over my head ready to throw at the monster. The last tie fell away, and as the flaps opened to admit the horror, I threw the ball with all my might and hit it slap bang in the mush.

‘Ouch! That really hurt Geordie!’ cried Frankie, as he fell backwards out of sight.

My heart was thumping and I could gladly have killed him. ‘You stupid twit, if you come in here I’ll flatten you,’ I screamed.

But as I ranted and threatened him with the death of a thousand tortures, he stayed outside until I had calmed down. Then he brought in a peace offering, two snadgies – snadgies to the uninitiated, is the local name for turnips.

Frankie had dug out two from Jones’s field, which explained the green stains and the dirt under the fingernails and after taking a shortcut through the churchyard had decided to give me a scare.

Fred Watson

_________________________________________________________

What did one wall say to the other wall?

I'll meet you at the corner.

____________________________________________________________

A Bad Day For Marmalade

Sandy the mouse was fed up. All afternoon he had been dodging here and there trying to shake off Marmalade the cat. It seemed as if everywhere he went he would catch glimpses of those orange and black stripes from the corner of his eye. The cat had stalked him through the flowerbeds in the borders, through the vegetable garden and now he was creeping after him through the woods. Sandy was not so much worried about the cat catching him. The cat had tried three times already this morning and he had evaded him easily.

No he was fed up because he was hungry, but he couldn’t stop to eat or the cat would pounce while he was eating. It was a situation that couldn’t go on or he would be liable to faint with hunger and where would he be then? At dinner with the cat, only he wouldn’t be eating, he would be on the menu. He needed a plan to get rid of the pesky cat. Maybe he could…no, wouldn’t work. What about if he…No good, the cat would spot it was a trap. I know, the clearing by the stream that should do the trick. Zigzagging around trees and bushes to avoid Marmalade he hurried to the clearing. Once there he moved to the very edge of the bank above the stream and sat down to wash his whiskers.

Marmalade was frustrated and angry. For the past hour he had been tracking Sandy the mouse, but every time he got ready to pounce Sandy would suddenly disappear and pop up in another location. It was almost as if the mouse knew that he was being stalked. He crossed from the garden into the trees hot in pursuit of Sandy and lost him almost straight away. He sniffed the air, he could smell the little beast and it was a distinctive smell. A smell that reminded him of something…what was it? Ah yes, that was it, the smell of freshly caught dinner.

With a grin like the cat in Alice in wonderland he dipped his head to the ground bloodhound fashion and set off after his prey. As he zigzagged between the trees the tantalising scent of mouse grew stronger. He lifted his head and the Cheshire cat grin widened to reach his ears, beyond the last of the trees he could see a clearing and at the far side sat the mouse. The little beast was sitting out in the open, without a care in the world, cleaning his whiskers. Well, he wouldn’t be cleaning them long he thought, as he dropped down onto his belly and began to squirm silently towards Sandy. Closer and closer he slid, until he reached the edge of the trees and could go no further without the mouse seeing him.

With a click he extended his razor sharp claws gathered himself up and sprang. Up, up, up he soared over the clearing, oh he loved this part, and down he came. The mouse had disappeared and too late he realised he had been fooled. Hitting the edge of the overhanging bank, he screeched as it collapsed and sent him cart-wheeling through the air, to land with a splat, right in the middle of the stream. Ooh! He hated water it was soo, soo, wet. After thrashing about for a while, he dragged himself out of the water onto the opposite bank and slunk away to find a place where the sun would dry him out.

As Marmalade flew through the air towards him Sandy stopped pretending to clean his whiskers and ran. He didn’t look back, not even when he heard the screech followed by a splash, he just ran. Quick as a flash he sped along the bank, across the bridge and into the stables. At this time of the day the horses and the donkey were out in the fields and he could fill his belly full of crushed oats and then snuggle down in the straw for a nice long sleep.

Fred Watson

When fish play football who is the captain?

The team's kipper.

____________________________________________________________

Korky

The Year we were fourteen, Frankie and me, for the first time ever, gave camping in the woods during the summer holidays a miss. We were so busy with our special project that we simply couldn’t spare the time. The name of that project was Korky and if any of you read the Dandy, you will know that Korky is a black cartoon cat. Our Korky however was neither black nor a cat. Our Korky was a red and yellow two-man Kayak and unlike the fibreglass Kayaks you get today, ours had a wooden frame covered in canvas, with the hand painted head of the cartoon Korky, painted on either side of the front deck, or she would have once we had built her.

We called the Kayak Korky after the character and referred to it as a she because I had read somewhere that all vessels, be they Kayaks or ships, are always referred to as she or her. As usual when I am telling a story I have gotten ahead of myself, so I better go back to the beginning and start over again.

In the winter when the weather was bad and the nights were long, I did a lot of reading and at the end of February I found a book in the library on boat building. It was written by a man called P. W. Blandford and gave instructions on how to build a sailing boat and a kayak. This fascinated me and I must have read it at least four times before I mentioned it to Frankie on the way home from school one day, ‘Frankie,’ I said, ‘You ever fancied having a kayak?’

‘Oh, aye and a yacht an’ all, when me dad wins the Football Pools.’

‘You don’t have to win the Pools, I’ve found this great book in the library and it shows how to build your own two-man kayak.’

‘But it’ll cost loads for tools and materials, and the one thing we haven’t got is money.’

‘But there’s got to be someway we can raise the money.’

‘Hold on, you’re always coming with these mad ideas, I might not want a Kayak,’ said Frankie.

I like that, it was always him coming up with the mad ideas, but still from the way that he said it, I could tell he was interested, so I just shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘OK, see you after tea.’

That got him going didn’t it?

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want a Kayak, I just said that I might not.’

‘You in then?’ I asked.

‘No, not until I know more about it.’

I had him then, we had been friends since forever and Frankie was the funniest, most adventurous boy I knew and normally he led and I followed. But this time it was me who’d had the madcap idea and knowing Frankie as I did, I reckoned that one look at the book would have him hooked.

‘Ok, come around later and have a look, if you think the idea is duff. That’s it, I’ll drop it.’

I’d hardly finished eating before there was a knock on the back door. Mum opened it and I heard him say, ‘Is George in Mrs Miller?’

You’ll notice he asked for George and not Geordie, that’s because he wasn’t daft, he wouldn’t have dared to call me Geordie in front of mum.

‘Aye son, go on through.’

I was sitting at the table with the book open in front me and I looked up when he came in.

‘Is that the book then,’ he said, as he sat down on the chair opposite.

I spun the book around and slid it over to him. He picked it up and after flicking through it, went back to the first page and began to read. Oh, no, I thought, we are going to be here all night. But I was wrong, after about ten minutes he lifted his head and his eyes were gleaming, ‘Do you really think we can build one?’

‘Aye, the book tells you how to do it, and if we send away, we can get a full size set of patterns for the frames, they’re only two quid, plus postage.’

Frankie’s face fell and he look over his shoulder to make sure mum wasn’t about, before hissing, ‘Jesus, Geordie if we pool our pocket money it’ll take us a fortnight just to get the patterns and if we need the tools and materials, we might as well just forget the idea.’

‘The tools are nothing, just two saws, a hammer and a screwdriver, we can borrow them.’

‘Aye, but the rest of the stuff is going to cost a load.’

‘I don’t know what the materials are going to cost, but I know who we can ask.’

‘Who’s that then?’

‘Mr Wilson at Wilson’s D. I. Y. in the high street, if we copy the list of materials in the book, we can take it in on Saturday morning and get a price.’

We were up early on Saturday – which was unusual for us – reached the shop shortly after opening time and handed our list over to Mr Wilson. The shop was quiet which was lucky, because it took a little while for him to check through the catalogues, but finally after he had noted down the prices, he added them up with his pencil and gave us the bad news. ‘All together it comes to £30, mostly because you need a sheet of one inch thick marine plywood, all the screws are brass, and even the nails you want are copper. What are you building, a boat?’

‘No, a Kayak,’ I said.

‘Thought it must be something like that, and these materials are for the frame. So what are going use for the skin?’

Frankie and I looked at each other, we hadn’t a clue what he was talking about and we stared at him blankly. He chuckled, ‘What are you going to cover the frame with?’

Suddenly I knew what he was talking about, ‘Canvas,’ I said.

‘If you tell me the weight and size that you want, I’ll try and get you a price for that as well. A mate of mine is a sail maker.’

‘Thanks, Mr Wilson that would be great, I’ll bring the size and the weight in on Monday after school.’

‘We left then and Frankie started as soon as we got outside, ‘Well, that’s put the mockers on it, we’ve no hope of raising £30,’ he said glumly.

‘And the canvas,’ I reminded him.

‘That’s it then, we definitely can’t raise the money.’

‘If we both get a spare time job, we can save up the money.’

‘Even if we do, how long is it going to take us?’

‘Depends on the price of the canvas, but I reckon about five months and that brings us to the six weeks holidays.’

Frankie cheered up at that, ‘Aye, and if we build the Kayak in the first couple of weeks, we can use it for the rest of the holidays. Come on let’s see if any of the shops need delivery boys.’

We spent the next hour going around asking if there were any jobs going, and believe it or not, Frankie got a job as delivery boy for Lipton’s the grocers. I tried a couple more places but by then the shops were getting busy and everyone told me to come back another day. I was as sick as a parrot, but what could I do? Still, I’d be back in the high street on Monday with the size of the canvas, I could try again then.

On Monday after school Frankie wanted to come with me, but I talked him out of it, saying that I wanted to try for a job myself. Actually it was more than that, with only half a dozen shops left to try, I didn’t think I had much hope of getting fixed up and the last thing I needed was a mate hovering about when I failed.

When I took the measurements in to Mr Wilson, he said he’d ring his friend the next day and if I came back again on Tuesday night, he’d be able to give me a price. I thanked him and headed for the door and had just opened it when he called out, ‘Hold on son, do you need any of the stuff in a hurry, because if you do, most of it needs to be ordered in.’

Well, what could I say, he had been so helpful I felt it only fair that I told him the truth, ‘To be honest Mr Wilson, it’ll be a while, we’re going to have get part time jobs and save up first. Frankie managed to get one on Saturday and I’m off to look for one now.’

‘That’s OK then, good luck with the job hunt and I’ll have this price for you tomorrow.’

I had no reason to stop Frankie coming with me to Mr Wilson’s on Tuesday after school and I was glad that he was with me when I got the bad news, and I was double glad when I got the good news. The bad news was that we needed to find another £10 for the canvas and the good news came when Mr Wilson said, ‘If you haven’t already found a job, how would you like to work here?’

It turns out that he had a dickey heart and doctor had told him to take it easy, and the only way he could do that was by getting someone to help in the shop part time, so he was offering me a Saturday job. He could only afford to pay a £1 a week, but with Frankie’s £1 from Lipton’s we would make enough to buy the materials. I thanked him and agreed to start the following Saturday, which was the same day that Frankie started at Lipton’s.

Saturday morning we arrived for work bright and early and stood chatting excitedly on the corner between the two shops – which were only 50 yards apart – while we waited for them to open, ‘Do you know what you’ll be doing?’ asked Frankie.

‘I haven’t a clue, Mr Wilson said, we’ll work it out as we go.’

‘They are giving me a bike to do the deliveries,’ said Frankie, puffing up his chest.

‘Great,’ I said, feeling just a little jealous that he would be out in the fresh air, riding a bike, while I would be working indoors.

As it turned out I got the best of the bargain. The bike they gave him had been well maintained so that was good, what wasn’t so good was that it was twenty years old and must have been built in a tank factory. It had a basket on the front to carry the groceries, altogether the whole thing weighed four times that of a normal bike and that was without the groceries. If that wasn’t bad enough, the High Street was in the middle of a steep hill, so that at least half of the time he would be pushing the bike instead of riding. Mind you, give Frankie his due; while he moaned about the beastly machine, he stuck it out until well into the summer holidays.

That first Saturday morning I swept the floors, tidied the wood, stacked the shelves and even served a customer with a bottle of turps when Mr Wilson was busy. After lunch, I minded the shop while Mr Wilson went through to the back shop to finish making some pelmets for an order. Not that I was a great help, because I had to keep asking him where things were, or how much they cost and I had to keep asking him to come through when customers wanted advice on what to use for such and such a job.

It was a busy little shop but things quietened down about three thirty and I watched Mr Wilson as he finished off the last of the pelmets. Wooden pelmets that fitted above the windows and hid the top of the curtain and curtain rail were very popular then and were made with a timber frame and a front cut out of hardboard, which could then be painted to match the room. Also, the fronts would be supplied in various patterns that were cut out with a jigsaw. All this talk of pelmets might sound a bit boring, but stick with it because those pelmets really did helped us build the Kayak.

When Mr Wilson finished the last pelmet, I asked if I could have a try and after showing me how to draw a curve on some scrap hardboard he showed me how to cut out the shape by hand with a coping saw. He used an electric jigsaw, but there was no way he’d let me. Anyway the upshot was that I ended up, after breaking a few of the blades in the process, with a couple pretty rough looking shapes.

‘They’re a bit on the rough side,’ he said. ‘But you’ll get there with practice. Why don’t you take the saw and some scrap wood home with you tonight?’

I could have danced with joy, well maybe not, but I was chuffed nevertheless and at finishing time, I took as much scrap hardboard as I could carry, the saw and some spare blades as well. It took a few weeks and a lot of practice but eventually I became a dab hand with the coping saw and I was able to really help Mr Wilson out. From then on all I did on a Saturday was to make loads of pelmets and this turned out to be just the job, because all the specially shaped frames for the Kayak had to be cut out of one sheet of one inch thick marine plywood using a coping saw.

With our combined first weeks wage we sent away for the plans and full size frame patterns and when they arrived spent most nights drooling over them, while we waited for our savings to grow. It was eight weeks after that, when we were counting up our money that we realised that we didn’t have to wait for the summer holidays to get started on the Kayak. We had sixteen pounds in the pot and that was exactly the price of the marine plywood. We whooped so loudly that my mum stuck her head around the door and said, ‘What’s all the noise? It sounds like a mad house in here.’

‘It’s OK; Mum it’s just that we’ve got enough to buy the plywood for the Kayak.’

‘Good lads, now can you keep the noise down, it is Sunday after all.’

Monday after school we went round to the shop and handed Mr Wilson sixteen crumpled pound notes, ‘What’s this for?’ he asked, pretending he didn’t know.

‘We’ve saved enough for the plywood. Can you order it for us,’ I said.

‘I certainly can, it’ll be in on Friday afternoon and I’ll deliver it to your house after I’ve shut the shop.’

But we were too impatient to wait even an extra couple of hours and arrived at the shop straight after school on Friday, determined to carry the plywood home ourselves. Mr Wilson tried to talk us out of it, saying the eight-foot long sheet was too heavy. But we were determined and with one of us at each end of the sheet of wood we headed home stopping every ten minutes for a rest. I took us over an hour to reach our house and ten minutes after we had staggered up the path, Mr Wilson gave a toot on the horn as he pass in his van.

Still we had the ply, now we could get started, it was a slow job cutting each frame out by hand using the coping saw and it would have been quicker with my dad’s electric jigsaw, but he wouldn’t let us near it. To be honest, he did offer to cut the frames out for us, but knowing my dad, if we had let him, he would taken over the whole job and we were determined to build the Kayak ourselves. Altogether it took us another four weeks working in the evenings, to cut out the frames and even though Frankie did some of the work, I still ended up with a couple of whopping great blisters on my hand.

By the time we finished the frames we had saved another six pounds but since we needed, waterproof resin glue, the timber rails, and most of the brass screws for the next stage, we had to wait for another weeks wage before we could order them. As before, the delivery was on a Friday and this time we let Mr Wilson deliver.

There were ten sixteen-foot long rails and a keel rail running stem to stern and each had to glued and screwed to the frames and the stem and sternposts. There were eight screws to a rail and apart from the keel, they had to be fitted in pairs and left until the glue set, so as not to twist the framework. It took a week to complete and another for the deck frames, the cockpit framing and inside decking.

We now had another four pounds in the pot. We spent a pound on a tin of paint for the frames, but after that we were stuck and would have to wait another four weeks before we could afford the canvas and the copper nails. Still we were ahead of time and we reckoned on finishing well before for the holidays. Or we did, until Frankie had his accident, he was freewheeling downhill on his way back to the shop after doing a delivery, when a small dog ran out in front of him. He didn’t have time to swerve so he slammed on the brakes, shot over the handlebars and slid along the road taking a load of the skin from his arms in the process. He was strapped up for three weeks and still wore the bandages when he went back to work.

With Frankie back on his bike, we soon made up the money and three weeks after that we had the skin on, the rubbing strips, combing frame and all the bits and bobs fitted. Another three days and we had her painted, red for the hull, yellow for the deck and of course Korky the cats face, painted by yours truly, either side at the front.

To say we were chuffed wasn’t in it, we were over the moon and rightly so. We had gone out a gotten jobs, saved up to buy the material, built our very own two-seater Kayak and not made a half bad job of it too. Now all we had to do was launch her and since neither of us had ever been in a Kayak before we needed to practice paddling, preferably somewhere quiet, where nobody would see us make fools of ourselves.

Apart from the river Tyne, which neither of us felt confident enough to try, the nearest water was a mile and a half away in a disused quarry. So with Frankie at the front and me at the back we carried Korky all the way there. Being in the middle of nowhere, it was an ideal spot, not many kids went there even in the school holidays, and we spent every day for a week getting the hang of Kayaking. Mind you, we had a few soakings mainly when getting into and out of the Kayak and took to wearing our bathers after the first day. The other thing we did after that first day was to find a better way to transport the Kayak. What seemed an easy task when we set out turned into a back breaker, especially on the way back when our arms felt like lead.

‘We can’t go on like this, said Frankie.

‘Well you take the back and I’ll take the front.’ I quipped.

‘Ha, ha, funny! You know what I mean; we can’t keep on carrying the Kayak around like a roll of carpet.’

I had to agree with him on that score, my back was aching, my arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, and I had been racking my brains all the way back for a solution, ‘Let’s just get Korky home and get something to eat. We’ll sort it out after tea.’

‘Best idea you’ve had all day, Geordie, I’m famished.’

By the time Frankie called around after tea, I was already in the shed dismantling the old pushchair I’d been going to make a cart with.

‘You’ve had an idea then, Geordie,’ Frankie said, as he pushed open the shed door.

‘Aye, here,’ I said, handing him a spanner. ‘Loosen those bolts, while I finish cutting off this bracket.’

Fifteen minute and some skinned knuckles later we had an axle complete with two wheels. Now we needed a way to fix it to one end of Kayak so that we could remove it again. There were lots of wood in the shed so I picked out an old piece of three by two, ‘Here Frankie cut that to the same length as the axle, while I scratch around for something to fix it in place.’

My dad had a workbench made out of an old sideboard and the drawers and cupboards were filled with a treasure trove of old brackets, bolts, washers, nuts, nails, screws and staples, and staples were exactly what we needed. We fastened the axel to the wood with three large ones and then used a couple of smaller ones to fasten a short piece of clothesline to each end of the wood. Now we could place one end of the Kayak on the wood between the two wheels, bring the two pieces of clothes line up over the top, tie them in a knot and, Hey Presto, we could lift the front of the Kayak and pull it along behind us on the two wheels.

At least that was the theory, but when we tried it out the clothesline gradually slid backwards until the wheels fell off, much to the amusement of the other kids in the street. We ran the gauntlet back to the shed with Frankie threatening to thump the next one to laugh and fixed the problem by screwing a large eyelet into the top of the last deck frame. Once the clothesline was passed through the eyelet and then tied, the wheels stayed in place and to make things easier still we screwed an old drawer handle onto the front. Now all we had to do when we took Korky out was to fix the wheels on the back, lift the handle at the front and the Kayak followed wherever we went.

After a week of practice we decided we were ready for the real thing; a trip downriver to the sea. We were both strong swimmers, but our dads insisted that we wear life jackets and add some buoyancy to the Kayak. The life jacket weren’t a problem as we hadn’t given up the Saturday jobs yet and we bought a couple from the Army and Navy store; they were pretty old fashioned but they did the job they were made for. The buoyancy for the Kayak was a bit more of a problem, (You have to remember in those days there was no such thing as polystyrene foam) but we solved that problem by inflating a couple of football bladders and fixing them inside, one at the stem and one at the stern. (Front and rear. to you land lubbers) In fact the bladders were so successful that even when the Kayak was filled with water it still floated.

Finally everything was ready, we stowed our jam sandwiches and ginger beer in the Kayak, fixed on the wheels and set off. It was a brilliant sunny day and forecasted to stay that way. Reaching the Tyne we slipped off the wheels and slid them inside, under the rear deck and launched her. I got in first and held her steady until Frankie came aboard, then off we went. The Tyne was then, and still is, a busy river with a lot of big ships plying to and fro and at first we were a bit worried, not so much that we’d be mown down. There wasn’t much chance of that, because we paddled down the sides where the water was shallow, but for fear of being tipped over by the wash.

The fear was groundless and an hour and a half later we paddled out between the piers at the river mouth and turned south. As I said it was a lovely day and the beaches were crowded as we passed. From the river mouth we paddled all the way along the coast to Seaburn, where we beached the Kayak and ate our sandwiches in the midst of a crowd of youngsters admiring our Korky.

After lunch we set off back the way we came and had only gotten as far as Whitburn when a young boy standing on some rocks about quarter of a mile from the shore began to wave to us, Frankie waved back and I was going to do the same when I noticed something wrong, ‘Paddle towards him, Frankie,’ I said.

‘What for?’

‘Look at the rocks he’s standing on.’

‘Oh, crumbs, he’s been cut off by the tide, let’s get over there.’

As we paddled closer he shouted, ‘Help I’m stuck and I can’t swim,’

‘Hang on we’ll get you off in a minute,’ I shouted back.

Lucky for us the sea was calm, because if hadn’t have been, we wouldn’t have been able to do what we did. We paddle right alongside the rocks and I got out and the boy took my place in the Kayak. Then while Frankie paddled I hung onto the back and swam until we reached the cheering crowd on the beach. To be honest it was embarrassing. The boy’s father shook our hands, slapped our backs and thanked us over and over again; he even took our names and addresses. As soon as we could, we made our escape and paddled off, with the crowd on the beach waving madly.

‘That was embarrassing,’ I said.

‘Yes, but it was kind of nice too,’ said Frankie, resting on his paddle and looking back towards dwindling crowd on the beach, ‘Sort of made me feel good.’

‘Yes I suppose so, but listen, Mr, we’ve got a long way to go and if you don’t start paddling we’re going to be late for our teas.’

We got back at six o’clock and after parking korky in the garden we were about split when the back door opened and my dad said, ‘Inside now the both of you.’

I looked a Frankie, he looked at me, and neither of us had a clue what it was about. Inside dad shut the door behind us, and ordered us to go through to the living room where we found Frankie’s mum and dad, my mum and a complete stranger. I looked around everyone was smiling so we couldn’t have been in trouble and I was about to ask what was going on, but dad spoke first. ‘This is Mr Mellors from the Echo and he want’s a word with you both.’

‘Hello lads, I’m a reporter with the Sunderland Echo, and I understand that you saved a young boys life at Whitburn this afternoon.’

There was silence for a moment and then I said, ‘We only gave him a lift in the Kayak.’

‘Yes, he was stuck and couldn’t swim so we gave him a lift to the beach,’ said Frankie.

‘That, in my book makes you a pair of heroes, boys.’

The reporter interviewed us, as did a reporter from Shields Gazette the next day and they even took our photos. The upshot was that we were famous for all of two weeks, received a certificate from the mayor and enjoyed the limelight for a while. But we became fed up with all the attention and were relieved when all the fuss died down and we could get on with our Kayaking in peace.

We did a lot of kayaking the rest of that year and the first half of the next. But by the end of the summer holidays, we became restless and started looking around for something else to do.

Copyright Fred Watson May 2008

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What's the letter that ends everything?

'G'

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All Of A Tangle

This story is a follow up to ‘The Girls And Sandy’ and ‘Sandy And The Beast’ and tells what happened to Marmalade after his run in with Sandy in the vegetable garden.

After their unexpected meeting with and their failure to catch Sandy the mouse, Rosie, Chloe and Beth headed for the slide and swings that granddad had built. They were chattering excitedly.

‘He was going at a supersonic speed,’ cried Beth.

‘Did you see the way I dived to catch him?’ asked Rosie.

‘Yes and did you see how high I jumped to get over you?’ asked Chloe.

Rosie giggled and said, ‘Yes and it was really funny when you did those two rolls.’

‘Did you see me catch him by the tail?’ asked Beth, ‘but he was going so fast that his tail slide right through my fingers.’

‘Yes, that really was brilliant,’ said Chloe.

‘Last one up the slide is a slow coach,’ cried Rosie as she raced towards the play area.

This time it was Beth who was the slowest, but she wasn’t bothered. While others climbed the slide she bagged first go on one of the swings.

They were having a great time alternating between the swings and the slide. When Rosie, as she was about go down the slide for tenth time, suddenly stood still and called out, ‘Quiet! Listen, I can hear something.’

‘What?’ Chloe asked.

‘It sounded like a cat. Listen there it is again.’ Rosie replied,

‘I can’t hear anything,’ said Beth.

‘Me neither,’ said Chloe.

Rosie shot down the slide, jumped to her feet and said, ‘If you both stop talking you’ll hear it.’

This time all three of them heard a muffled meow that sounded very sorry for its self.

Rosie was worried. ‘Come on, that cat sounds as if it is in trouble.’

Chloe and Beth frowned at the thought of any animal being hurt and hurried after Rosie. Following the sound of distress they crossed the lawn and turned onto the path through the vegetable garden. Though still muffled the cries were louder here and seemed to be coming from the rows of beans. They traced the sound to an area in the second row where some posts supporting the netting had collapsed and found the source of the pitiful meows. A large striped cat had somehow managed to become so deeply enmeshed in the bean netting that it was difficult to tell where the netting ended and the cat began.

‘This must be Marmalade, the cat grandma was telling us about,’ Rosie exclaimed.

‘Ah, poor thing, just look at the state he’s in,’ said Chloe.

‘Can you get him out?’ asked Beth, who dearly loved cats.

Rosie and Chloe dropped down beside Marmalade and Chloe talked softly to him, Rosie tried to free the netting. She did manage to unwrap a small amount but no way would she be able to free the cat.

‘We need help there’s no way to untangle this mess,’ said Rosie, ‘we better get granddad.’

‘I’ll go, I’ll go,’ said Beth and immediately ran off.

‘Wait,’ called Chloe.

Beth slowed and looked back.

‘Tell granddad to bring a knife and some scissors.’

Beth nodded and increasing speed raced to the house, burst through the door and shouted, ‘Come quick Marmalade is trapped, Rosie said to bring scissors and a knife.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Tangled in the netting in the vegetable garden.’

Grabbing the Scissors and a knife, Granddad hurried with Beth back to the garden and immediately took things in hand.

‘Chloe go around the other side and hold Marmalade still. Rosie get hold of the netting here and pull it tight. Beth you do the same at the other side.’

A couple of snips at one side then a couple at the other and he was left with a tangled ball of netting with a cat inside. Unravelling the netting a bit at a time and making a snip here and there, it wasn’t long before the cat was free. Marmalade must have exhausted himself struggling with the net because he just lay there. Granddad picked him up and handed him to Beth and said, ‘You hold him.’

The girls made a big fuss of Marmalade and like a drama queen he preened and lapped up the attention.

Granddad left them to it, while he picked up the broken poles and torn netting and then said, ‘Why don’t you take Marmalade to the house, while I get rid of this stuff.’

‘There, there, your safe now boy,’ said Beth as she carried Marmalade towards the house.

‘Look at him curled up in Beth’s arms, he looks so cute,’ said Chloe.

‘How did you manage to get yourself all tangled up, you silly cat?’ Beth asked Marmalade.

Marmalade just snuggled into her arms and purred.

‘He must have been chasing a bird or something to run into that net,’ said Chloe.

‘You don’t suppose,’ queried Rosie, ‘that he could have been chasing Sandy the mouse?’

Fred Watson June 2008.

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What do you get if you cross a mouse and a deer?

Mickey Moose.

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A Busy Day

Sandy the Mouse woke early, just as it was getting light, he sat up, sniffed the air, scratched, stretch, Yawned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and washed his hands and face.

Living by himself sometimes made him feel a little lonely, but most of the time he was quite happy on his own.

He used to have a large family, Mum, Dad, five brothers and six sisters and when they were little they had a great time running, tumbling, fighting and playing together. But over the years some moved away to live elsewhere, others just went out and never came back again, until one day there was only Mum, Dad and him left at home.

Then one day when he came home after being out all day, even they were not there and they did not come back that night or the next, or the next, after a while he knew the were not coming back, ever again.

He looked around his home in the loft above the garage and smiled, it was warm and comfortable, and held a lot of old memories.

Feeling hungry he made his way across the loft to the corner and climbed down into the garage. It was like most garages, a place where the people of the house stored all of their leftover things. Sandy moved around the grass mower, past the old broken washing machine, between the pile of paint tins and then on through the utility room into the kitchen. On the table there was some left over cheese and bread from the night before, he ate all the cheese and the bread and drank some water from the sink.

Breakfast over he made his way out into the garden, turned left along the path at the rear of the house and then keeping close to the border at one side, he followed the path that ran down to the lawn. Squinting his eyes he searched the ground then the sky. Satisfied he ran across the lawn to the corner, and hurried over the wooden bridge that spanned the stream.

At the far side he crossed over and keeping to the shadows cast by the paddock fencing, made his way to the stables. He was partial to a bit of corn and there was always plenty in the stables.

Popping into the first stall was a mistake. It was occupied by a bad tempered donkey that reared up and tried it’s best to trample him. Sandy dodged left and right and had almost made it out of the stall, when the donkey with an expert flick of it’s rear hoof, sent him sailing over the half door. The sky and the earth spun past like a kaleidoscope and he tumbled through the air to land with a great splash in the horse trough.

Spluttering, gasping, and spiting water he came up to the surface and scrambled over the side, only to fall flat on his face in the mud around the trough. Struggling to his feet he decided there and then that under no circumstances would he ever enter the donkey’s stall again.

Beyond the stables was a field of strawberries and he slipped under the gate and into strawberry heaven. The fruit was so big and juicy he simply did not know where to start. But after a while, he finally made up his mind and picked the biggest and reddest one he could see.

The strawberries were delicious and he would have stayed there eating, probably, until he made himself sick. But when a great hairy beast of a dog, came running towards him barking madly. He dropped the strawberry he was eating and sped off on a zigzag course towards a group of trees.

Halfway across the field the dog was gaining on him. Three Quarters of the way and the dog nearly had him; he could feel its hot breath on his back every time it barked. He risked a glance over his shoulder and all he could see was a great cavern of a mouth, full of giant yellow teeth dripping with saliva. Calling on an extra burst of energy, he shot forward and the mouth crashed shut behind him with a loud clack.

He got to the tree first, but only just, climbed quickly up and onto the first branch. Being close behind, the dog unable to stop slammed nose first into the tree and promptly sat down and howled. After a while however, when its eyes had stopped watering, it stood on its hind legs barking and clawing, as it tried to reach the bottom branch.

Once Sandy was sure that the dog could not reach him, he simply sat there grinning while the dog leapt, jumped and slavered at the mouth.

After hearing several loud whistles, the dog dropped down, walked a short distance away, then ignoring the summons, came back and tried to reach the bottom branch again. The whistles however came again and this time with a great show of reluctance the dog gave a whine and left. Sandy waited until the dog was out of sight, then climbed down from the tree and slipped into the hedgerow.

Coming to a gap he popped through and came out into a flower-dotted meadow. He had barely begun to cross, when from the corner of his eye he caught the shadow of something coming towards him. After his run in with the dog he panicked and dropped flat to the ground. But it was only a butterfly landing on a flower nearby and he did feel a little silly.

Quite close to the edge of the field he found some mushrooms and since he had not managed to finish his strawberry, sat down to eat one.

*

High in the sky above him the hawk circled looking for its prey, spotting movement in the mushrooms, it immediately tucked back its wings and dived down. Plummeting through the air with the speed of guided missile, the hawk headed for its target. At the last minute it feathered its wings and extended its claws for the kill.

*

Sandy had finished his first mushroom and was halfway through another, when a great shadow fell over him. Without looking up he immediately dived to his left, then quick as a flash he darted to the edge of the field and rolled under a bush.

Too late to Pull up, the hawk, claws extended; hit the ground with an angry screech, missing him by centimetres. It stabbed to the left with it’s beak, again narrowly missing him.

Screaming with anger the hawk lifted off from the ground circled the bush several times trying to get at him. But Sandy panting and shivering with fear, had managed to squirm his way deep into the bush. The hawk realising that there was no way to get at him, gave a last angry screech, then flew off across the field and disappeared.

Sandy gave up then and made his way home, it was easier to face Marmalade the cat, than the wildlife out here.

By Fred Watson.

What weapon was most feared by medievil knights?

A can-opener.

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Tornado Tommy

Tornado Tommy was his name,

tearing things apart was his game.

When appearing at the Gateshead Sage,

he stood foursquare on the stage

and with a bow to the assembled host,

tore in half the Gateshead Post.

Seeing the audience unimpressed,

with a flourish he ripped off his vest

and with his torso completely bare,

he climbed quickly onto a chair.

Then flexing his ample six pack,

he raised aloft a Tibetan yak

The audience screamed and went wild

and for the first time Tommy smiled.

Then holding the yak in one hand,

he reached out to a nearby stand.

Picked up a street map of Leith

and tore it in half with his teeth.

But his smile turned into a frown,

when he fell as he stepped down

and as he lay prone on his back

was buried beneath the yak

Fred Watson.

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Why can't a leopard hide?

Because he is always spotted.

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Crabby’s Long And Dangerous Journey.

At the seaside, in a large rock pool that can only be reach when the tide is fully out, there live many small creatures. Beneath the surface, the pool is normally a cool and pleasant place to live. Today however all is not well, there is a thunderstorm raging and as the tide comes sweeping in, giant waves pour into the pool. The water swirls and spins and Crabby Crab, who has been caught out in the open is swept around and around. One minute he is upside down, the next the right way up and his claws are aching, with trying to grab onto anything to stop him bouncing off the rocks.

Suddenly he is thrown up to the surface, where he manages grab onto a lump of driftwood and is carried out of the pool and in towards the shore. He hangs on with both of his pincers as the piece of wood is hurled from one wave to the next. Up and down, back and forwards he goes and the nearer to the shore he gets the worse it becomes. As the water become shallow the waves break, throwing the wood forward and pounding it down onto the sandy bottom, only to pick it up and do it over and over again. All Crabby can do is to hang on tightly, until he is thrown ashore many hours later. The driftwood ends up in a great heap of seaweed on the shore and he was so tired by then that he crawled deep inside and fell asleep.

When Crabby woke up it was the middle of the night, the storm was over and the tide was on its way out again. Shakily he crawled out from under the seaweed and scuttled sideway down to the waters edge. He needed to get back to his home pool, but he wasn’t sure which way to go. He could feel soft sand beneath his legs but he needed to feel rocks. He stood still for moment unsure what to do and then scuttled off, following the waters edge to the left. On and on he travelled for a long, long time. Then just when he was about to give up and go the other way, the sand was gone and he could feel rock beneath his legs.

He had found the rocks, now all he had to do was to find the pool. He followed the tide as it went out and within minutes, splash! He had fallen into a pool. It was very dark at the bottom of the pool, but then the moon came out from behind a cloud and he took a look around. It wasn’t his pool so he scrabbled out and continued his search. All night he climbed into and out of pools and was chased by other bigger crabs for invading their territory. In the last one he’d even had to fight off a large, hungry, Moray eel that had been left behind by the tide.

He was wondering if he would ever get home, when he spotted a jumble of rocks ahead. If he climbed to the top of them, maybe he would be able to see where his own pool was. It was hard climbing the slippery rocks and it took him so long that it was daylight before he reached the top. He crouched down for a moment until he got his breath back and then scrabbled over to the edge and looked down. There were three more pools in front of him and while he had never seen his pool from above, he knew that it was the one right at the edge of the sea.

Climbing down the side of rocks, he set off sideways towards the pool and was only halfway there when a large seagull spotted him and came diving down to the attack. Quickly he scuttled into a crack in the nearest rock. There was only just enough room for him to squeeze inside and after the seagull had landed it poked its beak into the opening trying to peck him. He fought it off with his strong hard pincers and eventually the seagull gave a loud angry squawk and flew away. Crabby waited until he was sure it was gone, then ran across to his pool, slipped under the water and crawled into his cave in Crabby Rock. Once inside, he lay down, went to sleep, and dreamed of telling his friends about his long and dangerous journey.

Fred Watson May 2008

What did the shoe say to the foot?

'You're having me on.'

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Ronnie Cole

The old gang broke up the year we moved up to the seniors for various reasons. Colly Morgan’s family emigrated and the lucky dog got to live in Australia. Tommo Smith, always a clever lad got blinding scores in his stats, was sent to a private school and went all posh on us. Not that we blamed him, it was his mum who wouldn’t let him mix with the riff raff. Daza Wilkinson and Pongo Hutton moved up to St Josephs. That only left Frankie Dodds my best mate and me Geordie Miller to bus it to Westbrook Seniors.

Daza, Pongo, Frankie and me did camp in the woods for a week at Easter, but they had found mates at their new school and didn’t want to know us by the time the summer holidays came around. So it looked like it would only Frankie and me camping in the holidays. Then couple of weeks before the summer break old Mrs Blakestone who lived at the head of the close, moved out and a new family called Cole moved in.

Mum ever the good neighbour gave them a couple of days to get unpacked then took them a cake she’d baked as a welcome present. When she came back she could hardly wait to tell dad about them. ‘Her name is Mary and her husband’s called Bob; they’re a really nice couple, they’ve moved up here from Richmond because he’s got a new job at Semen’s factory.’

Dad grunted, continued to read his Chronicle and she gave him such a look, ‘You’re not listening to me, are you Jack Miller?’

He grunted something that might have been a yes and turned to the back page of the paper.

‘OK, clever clogs what did I say?’

Dad gave a sigh as if to say, can’t a man read his paper in peace, winked at me, smiled and said, ‘She’s Mary, he’s Bob, they come from Richmond and he’s got a job at Semen’s.’

‘Oh, you!’ said mum. ‘But did I tell you they have a boy called Ronnie who’s the same age as our George.’

‘I haven’t seen any boy. Have you George?’

‘No Dad.’

‘That’s because,’ said mum. ‘He’s in the General hospital, that’s why his dad changed jobs and they moved up here, so it would be handy for the hospital.’

‘What’s wrong with the lad then?’ asked dad.

‘I don’t know,’ said mum. ‘Can’t be good, Mary got upset just saying his name. No doubt we’ll find out later when she feels able to talk about him.’

That was how I first heard of Ronnie Cole and his mysterious illness and it would another week before I met the lad himself. It was after tea on a Friday night and I was in the garden on the trampoline when I got the feeling that someone was watching me. I did a flip so that I landed facing the other way and he was there standing by the back door. He was about the same height as me, had a bit of sandy hair showing below his cap, freckles on his nose and amazingly didn’t look ill at all. I knew who he was before he spoke, I’d seen him getting out of one of those mini bus ambulances two days before.

‘Hi, George’ he said. ‘I’m Ronnie, your mum said I could come round.’

‘Hi, you want a go on the trampoline?’

‘Nah! Can’t, I’m not allowed.’

‘Tough! Something to do with hospital?’

‘Yer!’ he said, with a shrug as if it didn’t matter, though I could see that it did.’

I jumped down from the trampoline and said, ‘Come on; let’s call on Frankie… And Ronnie, call me Geordie, only my mum calls me George.’

‘OK Geordie,’ he said with a grin.

I took him around to Frankie’s and I could tell Frankie thought he was cool and since I liked him too, he became one of our gang. Not a full time member you understand, he spent too much time in hospital for that. But still a fully-fledged member when he was well enough to join us, which wasn’t very often. Ronnie never moaned about his illness but we knew that he got tired very easily and we tended to play marbles or chucks instead of football and stuff when he came over.

As usual when we broke up for the summer holidays we got ready to set up camp in the woods and Ronnie set his heart on coming with us. Unfortunately his mum, who said he wasn’t well enough, vetoed the idea. Ronnie begged and pleaded, but his mum was adamant and even though we could see he really wasn’t well enough, we still felt sorry for him, he had talked about nothing else all week.

Despite only knowing him for a week Frankie and I had taken a shine to Ronnie, he was great lad and we decided to ask his mum if maybe he could visit us in the camp for an hour or so each day.

‘Please, Mum, please,’ begged Ronnie.

‘I don’t think you should,’ she said, ‘You’re really not up to it.’

I could see that she didn’t fancy the idea of him being out of her sight but it would only be for a couple of hours each day and we would look after him. After all we had all the rest of the day to go wild in.

‘What if we called for him each day after breakfast, Mrs Cole, then he could come home when we come for our lunch,’ I said.

‘And you’d look out for him and make sure he didn’t do too much?’

‘Honest, Mrs Cole, we will,’ said Frankie

‘OK then Ronnie we’ll try it for a couple of days, but if you get worse that’s it, no arguments.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ said Ronnie, with a big grin on his face.

The next morning after breakfast Ronnie came to the woods with us and helped us build our camp. I should maybe take the time here tell you about our camping. During our school holidays we always went camping in the nearby woods that were only fifteen minutes away. That might sound a little weird, but it was really convenient, we could spend all day in the woods and sleep there at night too, but we could nip home for our meals and we didn’t have dig a latrine either. Cool or what?

The following morning the three of us scoured the woods looking for suitable branches and after cutting the ones we wanted, took them back to the camp and made bows and arrows, but before we use them Ronnie’s time was up. He said he was feeling great and was all for staying longer, at least until we set up a target and had a go with the bows. But Frankie and I talked him out of it because we thought he looked a little tired. Beside I think we knew that if he didn’t get back in time that would be the end of his trips to the woods.

On Wednesday Ronnie was quite and didn’t seem to have much energy, so we sat him on a tree stump and after setting up a tin can on rock at the other end of the clearing, we took turns with our bows and arrows at trying to knock it off. Frankie and I had been practicing the day before and we thought we were pretty good, but despite only having enough energy to half draw his bow, Ronnie hit the can with unerring accuracy to beat us hands down. The morning ended with twenty-two hits to Ronnie, twelve to Frankie and nine to me, and no, we didn’t let him win.

It was the same on Thursday only this time we’d made catapults with strips cut from an old bicycle inner tube and guess what? Ronnie slammed us again. On Friday however when we called for him, his mum said he was to poorly and to leave it until next week. We felt sorry for him, but being young and daft, like boys our age tend to be, we got on with our games and put poor Ronnie to the back of our minds.

He might have been at the back of our minds, but a week later and once a week for the next three weeks we called at his house, only to be told that Ronnie was too poorly to come out and no he wasn’t well enough for visitors. Then the next week we were told that he’d had to go back into hospital for more treatment and that was the end of any hope that Ronnie would get to come to the camp before the school holidays ended, or so we thought.

A few days later when Frankie and I got to the camp after breakfast Ronnie was already there and whatever the treatment they gave him was it must have worked because for the first time since we had known him he looked really fit. We asked him what it had been like in the hospital but he mustn’t have wanted to tell us and jumped to his feet, ‘Come on, you two, let’s go climb some trees,’ and began to clamber up the nearest one.

Frankie and I looked at each other in amazement, then Frankie’s face split into a grin, he let off a great whoop of joy and followed Ronnie up the tree. From then on it was mayhem as we ran wild for the rest of the day. We didn’t even go home for lunch, Ronnie said he didn’t have to get back until teatime and we had brought sandwiches, which we all shared. After tea when got back to the camp Ronnie already had a fire going and we sat around cracking jokes and telling stories like boys do, until it was time for bed. Just before we went to sleep Ronnie smiled and said, ‘Thanks lads, this has been the best day of my life.’

It was a little embarrassing and to us it seemed a strange thing to say, because we had days like that every day. But we supposed that with him being in ill health, to have one day when you feel fit enough to run wild, would make it seem a very special day indeed. Anyway we all said, ‘Goodnight,’ and that was that.

There was no sign of Ronnie the next morning and we assumed he had gotten up early and gone for his breakfast. But we were in for a shock when we called for him after breakfast. ‘Sorry boys,’ said Mrs Cole, ‘He’s still in hospital, but he’ll be home next week, you can come and see him then.’

‘But, Mrs Cole…’ Frankie began, but I shut him up with a sharp dig in the ribs from my elbow.

‘We’ll come back when he gets home, Mrs Cole,’ I said and dragged Frankie off to the camp.

‘Ronnie was here, wasn’t he?’ asked Frankie, even though he knew the answer as well as me.

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘So how could he be, if he was safely tucked up in hospital?’

‘I don’t know, maybe he wanted to be here so much, that he somehow managed to get here even though he was still in hospital.’

‘Like a ghost you mean? But that can’t be right, we both played with him and he didn’t look like a ghost to me.’

‘Nor me,’ I said.

We talked and argued about it for the rest of the day without coming up with an explanation, in the end we decided to keep the whole thing to ourselves and tell no one what had happened. After all if we did, people would think we were a right pair of nutters, wouldn’t they.

Just in case you were wondering, after his treatment, the illness went into recession, Ronnie got well and is still alive. He lives down in Harrogate now and works for an estate agent.

Copyright Fred Watson March 2008

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What did the egg say to the whisk?

I give up. I know when I'm beaten.

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Rapunzel, Rapunzel

Once upon a time in a green and pleasant land, where the hills rolled, dark forests grew and castles had the look of sweet confection, there lived two handsome princes, Alex and Reginald. They lived near to each other in adjoining kingdoms within this fairy tale land and were the best of friends. Like all royal children they had lots of servants catering to their every whim and were, to say the least, a little pampered.

Despite the spoiling influences of palace life, both boys grew to be strong, if a little dandified and with ruffles at wrist and throat were the very height of fashion. Inseparable as children they became almost welded together as young men and where one went the other followed. They double dated, had the same taste in fair maids of the flaxen haired kind and would often dance with them until dawn. When they weren’t dancing they attended great banquets, ate delicious food, imbibed fine wines and were not adverse to the occasional pipe.

Hunting was another of their pastime and many a day, they and the other popinjays of the court would ride out in search of sport. Deep in the forest they would hunt the boar, or wolf, or sometimes bear. Once they even hunted and overcame a dragon, though I have to admit the dragon was old and had lost all his teeth. All in all they lived a right royal life, but all good things come to an end and one day they were called to their respective castles and told by their parents in no uncertain terms that it was time to settle down.

They were to scour the kingdoms for wives and as usual they decided to do it together. One of the best places to find a fair maid, then, as it is even today, was at a ball. Which was great as far as they were concerned, they could still carouse the night away and keep their parents happy at the same time. Then one afternoon when they were on their way to yet another ball, a messenger looking for Prince Reginald caught up with them. A fair damsel called Rapunzel who had been imprisoned in a high tower deep in the forest by a witch, was in urgent need help.

The ever-gallant Reginald was about to ride off to the rescue on his white charger, when Alex not wanting to go to the ball alone persuaded him to stay, accompany him that night and leave the saving of the fair maid until the morrow. Owing a debt of friendship to Alex, Reginald reluctantly agreed. That night however, Alex was smitten by a flaxen haired beauty called Cinderella and gazed into her eyes as if moon struck. They danced every dance together and poor Reginald was left to his own devices. Then just as the clock began to chime midnight Cinderella fled leaving a glass slipper behind.

To say that Alex was upset would be an understatement, he was broken hearted and Reginald seeing his friend so inconsolable decided to put off the rescue of Rapunzel until Cinderella was found. It took them four days but eventually the maid was found and of course Reginald had to stay for the wedding.

Two weeks later Reginald finally said goodbye to Alex and Cinderella and hurried off to rescue Rapunzel. When he reached the tower He called out, ‘Rapuzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.’

But there was no reply; Rapuzel sick of waiting, had run off with another prince instead. Dejected he wandered for many months but unable to find another princess he eventually returned home, only to find that Cinderella had run off with a woodsman.

An unhappy state of affairs all round and a sad way to end a tale, I hear you say.

But the story isn’t finished yet and it does have a fairy tale ending, Alex and Reginald gave up on blonde princesses, travelled to a far distant land of blue sea and waving palms and lived happily ever after, married to a couple of red haired, green eyed, mermaids.

Fred Watson

Where do baby monkeys sleep?

In an apricot.

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Hissing Sid The Sneaky Snake

Down in jungle lived a snake called Hissing Sid, who was always sneaking around capturing the small animals. He never tried to capture the lions, the elephants or any of the larger animals, because he was scared of them. His favourite trick was to coil himself around a branch above the path and wait there, keeping very still. Sooner or later, some poor animal that didn’t know any better, would come along the path and Sid would drop down, wrap them in his coils, and carry them away.

All of the small animals that lived locally were warned by their mums never to go down the jungle path where Hissing Sid lived and they never did, until the day Michael the Marmoset Monkey forgot.

Michael woke up early one morning and said, ‘Mum can I go and call on my friends?’

‘Not yet, it’s early,’ said his mum.

‘But, Mum my friends will be waiting for me,’

‘No they won’t,’ said mum. ‘Besides you’re not going anywhere until you’ve had your breakfast.’

Michael moaned and groaned, but settled down when his mum gave him his favourite food for breakfast, a banana. After peeling the skin back he sat on his special branch and ate it all up.

‘Now can I go out and play Mum?’ he asked.

‘You’re not going anywhere, until you’ve had that fur combed,’ said his mum.

‘But, but, Mum…’

‘Never mind, but, but, come over here and let me comb your fur.’

Michael tried to get out of it by saying his didn’t need combing, but his mum wasn’t having any of that and made him sit in front of her while she began to comb him with her fingers.

‘Ow! Ow!’ he cried as she combed out the tats.

‘Sit still, you silly boy, it doesn’t hurt that much, the sooner I get finished the sooner you can go and play.’

Michael sat there wriggling until finally his mum said, ‘There that’s all done and you can go and play now.’

‘Yeah!’ shouted Michael as he scampered off to see his friends. He went to Melissa’s tree first and then the two of them called for Charley, final the three of them made their way to the last tree to collect Celina.

‘What shall we play today? asked Melissa.

‘I know, I know, said Charley. ‘We can swing through the trees playing tag’

‘OK, Who’s on?’ asked Michael.

‘eeny, meeny, miney, mo, catch an Ant on your toe, if he bite you let him go, eeny, meeny, miney mo, you’re on, Charley,’ said Celina. And they all shot off into the trees, laughing and giggling.

Up and down and around they went shrieking and squealing. Charley tagged Melissa first and off they went again. Next to be tagged was Celina, who tagged Michael, who then chased Charley until he managed to tag him too.

They played tag all morning until the sun became too hot, then they had a nap in the shade of a banana tree. After their nap when the air grew cooler Michael asked, ‘What shall we play now?’

‘I know! I know,’ said Melissa. ‘Let’s play hide and seek.’

‘Great, who will be on?’

‘eeny, meeny, miney, me, catch a caterpillar on your knee, if he wiggles set him free, eeny, meeny, miney, me, You’re on Celina,’ said Charley.

Celina hid her eyes and began to count, when she reached twenty she shouted, ‘Coming ready or not.’ Then she began to search.

She caught Charley first, then Melissa, but she couldn’t find Michael anywhere. After searching everywhere she could think of, she asked the others to help and even with all three of them looking they couldn’t find him.

‘There is only one place we haven’t looked,’ said Celina.

‘Yes, the jungle path,’ said Charley.

‘But that’s where Hissing Sid lives and we are not allowed to go there,’ cried Melissa.

The three friends stood at the beginning of the jungle path and shouted for Michael.

***

When Celina began counting, Michael had looked around for a good hiding place, but he had hidden in them all before. He needed somewhere new and the only place he’d never been before was down the jungle path. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go there, but if he only went down a short way, there was very little chance of meeting Hissing Sid.

He’d found a great bush that hid him completely. The problem was that it must have been too good, because he had been here for ages and no one had found him at all. Then he heard his friends calling so he stepped out from behind the bush.

He had only just set foot on the path when there was a thump and a loud hiss behind him. Hissing Sid, who had been on a branch above him, had dropped down to wrap him in his coils and had missed. Michael took one look and ran off up the path with an angry Hissing Sid close behind.

Michael had almost reached his friends when he tripped and fell. Hissing with glee Sid pounced and came to sudden stop, as Charley grabbed his tail. Turning back on himself he tried to grab Charley. But Melissa hit him with a coconut and as he turned towards her, Celina poked him with a stick he twisted around again. Then Michael joined in and Hissing Sid was twisting left and right, back and forth, over and under, until finally he’d had enough and made off, slither, bump, slither, bump with a knot tied in his middle.

Michael got a good telling off from his mum, but he didn’t mind, because she was right and he’d never go down that jungle path again.

Fred Watson

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What is orange and sounds like a Parrot?

a Carrot.

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Barney's New Bed

Barney the cat was fed up, he was sick of his bed in the washroom. Katie had got it for him when he was a tiny kitten and it had little flowers and bows around the sides. Ugh, he thought, it is so babyish, and I am no longer a little cutesy kitten, I am a big strong cat, a great hunter of mice and I refuse to sleep in that baby bed anymore. I will go find my own bed, a bed fit for a grown up cat like me.

He walked down the path into the back garden and looked around. Now where would be a good place to sleep? He could climb into the garage through the little window at the back. But if someone shut the window he would either be trapped inside or locked out. No, he decided the garage was no good; he wanted to be able to come and go when he wanted.

The greenhouse look promising, there was a small pane of glass missing in the door so there would be on problem getting in and out. He jumped inside and a voice said, ‘Oy! What der yer think yer doing in here?’

It was Rodney and Barney had forgotten that he lived in the greenhouse. Rodney was a very big rat with yellow teeth and Barney knew he could never sleep in the same place as Rodney. Cats and Rats just do not get on together, so Barney jumped back through the hole where the glass was missing and went to look elsewhere.

He decided to go and see Harry Hedgehog. Harry lived under the hedge in the corner of the garden with his mum and dad and he was a very good friend. Maybe he could stay with Harry. When Barney reached the corner he called out, ‘Hello, are you there? Harry.’

For a moment nothing happened, then a pile of dry leaves in the corner began to move and first a small snout, followed by a pair of eyes appeared. ‘Hello, Barney, what are you doing at this end of the garden?’ asked Harry.

‘I’m looking for a new place to sleep and I wondered if I could stay in your house?’ asked Barney.

‘You’re welcome to stay with us, but we haven’t a house.’

‘Where do you sleep then?’

‘Under that pile of leaves.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Barney. ‘I’m sorry Harry, but I don’t think I would like to sleep under a pile of leaves.’

‘Why don’t you go and make a bed in the shed,’ said Harry. ‘You could get in through the hole in the back, like you did last time you ran away.’

‘I can’t, Katie’s dad has blocked the hole up.’

‘Why don’t you ask Rosalind Rabbit if you can stay with her?’ asked Harry.

‘Good idea, I’ll go and ask her now,’ said barney.

Slipping under the garden fence, Barney made his way to the hill where the rabbits lived and knocked on the door of burrow number twenty-two. In a moment or two Rosalind opened the door and said, ‘Hello Barney, what are you doing here?’

‘I’m fed up with my old bed,’ said Barney, ‘and I was wondering if I could stay with you.’

‘Sure you can Barney, there’s a spare bed in my brother’s room, come on in.’

Barney began to follow Rosalind into the burrow, but the farther they went the darker it got, until eventually it was so dark that Barney couldn’t see a thing and he said, ‘Can you switch on the lights, I can’t see anything.’

‘Oh you are silly Barney,’ said Rosalind, ‘rabbit burrows don’t have any lights.’

‘What, you live in the dark all the time.’

‘Yes, that’s because our burrow is deep under the ground.’

‘I’m sorry Rosalind,’ said Barney,’ but I couldn’t sleep down there in the dark.’

With that, Barney scrabbled backwards until he was outside in the daylight. Now where am I going to sleep? I’ve tried everywhere and I don’t like any of them. Then just as he was about to give up he remembered the Magpie nest in the old tree. The magpies had built it last year, but this year they had built a new one in a different tree. ‘Ah,’ said barney to no one in particular, ‘that’s just the place for me.’

Ducking back under the fence, he climbed right up to the top of the old tree and jumped into the nest, after scratching about with his paws he curled up was soon asleep. He slept right through the afternoon and awoke when he heard Katie calling him in for his tea. Quickly he climbed down and went in through the cat flap in the backdoor and ate his tea, it was his favourite, chunky tuna. After he had eaten he went through into the lounge and played with Katie and her sister Rosie until it was bedtime. Bedtime for them that is, there was no way that they were going to get him into that bed.

As soon as Katie and Rosie’s mum said, ‘It’s time for bed girls.’ Barney shot through the kitchen, into the washroom and out through the cat flap, into the garden. Quickly he climbed the tree, curled up in his new bed and it was so comfortable that very soon he was fast asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night the wind began to blow. At first it only blew softly and Barney slept on as he was rocked to and fro, but the wind grew stronger and Barney woke up as the branches began to thrash about. He dug his claws in and clung on as he was thrown every which way.

Suddenly the wind blew stronger still, there was a loud crack, as the branch complete with Barney in the nest, snapped from the tree and sailed across the garden to land with a thump on the lawn. Unhurt, but feeling very dizzy, Barney clambered from the nest, tottered to the backdoor and crawled through the cat flap. Inside he staggered over to his warm, safe, comfortable old bed with its flowers and bows, and was soon fast sleep.

Fred Watson

History Teacher: 'In your work on British kings and queens. Who came after Mary?'

Puplil: 'Her little lamb.'

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The Tickler

When Alice Weatherspoon fancied a bit of fish for her tea, she didn’t go to the fishmonger’s or the chip shop, she went down to the river to catch her own. Mind you if the river warden were to catch her fishing without a licence, it would have cost her quite a bit, the fines were really high and she only got a pound pocket money.

The Environment Agency issued the rod fishing licences and since she was a trout tickler and didn’t own a rod, Alice didn't really think she should have to pay for a licence. She learnt the art of trout tickling from her father. Her father had learned it from his father, who had turned to poaching as a means of feeding his family, when he was out of work.

Well, last Friday Alice made her way down to the river Wear, bucket in hand, to catch a bit of fish, she was after a nice pair of trout for her tea. Alice always liked to have fish for her tea on a Friday.

Her favourite pitch was upstream from Penshaw, on a quiet stretch a few yards beyond the bridge that carries the A182 across the Wear Valley. On reaching the spot she half filled her bucket with water, rolled up her sleeve and lay on the bank with her arm in the water. An hour later her patience was rewarded as she scooped out the first trout and placed it in the bucket, twenty minutes later the second one joined the first and she was ready to leave.

Picking up the bucket, she set off for home and had gone no more than 50 yards when the warden stepped out from behind a tree. In 5 years of fishing that stretch of river Alice had never even seen a warden, but she knew the type.

‘Excuse me Miss, could I see your fishing licence?’ the man asked.

‘And who are you?’

‘I am the river warden and you need a licence to fish here.’

‘That’s alright then,’ said Alice. ‘I’m not fishing.’

‘But, you have been Miss and that is an offence, and liable to a fine.’

‘I didn’t know that, but it’s OK since I haven’t been fishing.’

‘If that’s the case, Miss, why have you got two trout in that bucket?’

‘Ah them, well, that one is Mavis and that one’s Mary they’re my pets and I bring them down to the river every day so they can get some exercise.’

‘That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.’

‘No it’s not. What I do is, I tip the fish into the river down there, take a walk up there, until I get to the bridge, then I put the bucket in the water, tap the side with my stick and Mavis and Mary swim back into the bucket.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ said the warden. ‘You must think I’m stupid.’

‘Look, I’ll prove it to you,’ said Alice and she tipped the trout into the river.

‘Right,’ said the warden. ‘ Now, lets see you get the fish to swim back into the bucket.’

‘What fish would that be?’ Asked Alice innocently.

Fred Watson

Why wasn't the butterfly invited to the dance?

Because it was a moth ball.

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Mrs Prince

Laurel cupped her hands either side of her face, pressed her nose to the glass and scanned the practice room. It was empty, good; she had been hoping it would be. There was two hours yet to rehearsals and she needed to work on the extra routine that Mr Rushford had introduced into the second act.

Mr Rushford was the school drama teacher, a brilliantly creative teacher that the kids all admired. He had arrived at the school five years earlier and had taken the small poorly attended drama class and turned it into a vibrant and innovative drama group that the whole school was proud of. He was a creative genius and like a lot of creative people his enthusiasm for the job often ran away with him. To dismay of his pupils who had spent weeks in rehearsals for a show, he would quite often come up with an additional routine at the last minute.

Hence, Laurel needed to practice her new solo routine before the rehearsals began. Closing the door behind her, she took off her jacket and hung it on a peg near the door, walked to the end of the room and slipped her CD into the player. As the music began she adjusted the sound and began her warm-ups. Dancers, like athletes, warm up to prevent injury and Laurel was always careful to complete hers, no way was she going to allow any injury to get in the way of her dancing.

Fifteen minutes later she was ready and slipping a new disk into the player began to practice the routine. As always with something new it was difficult, but with dancing it is doubly so. Not only have you got to remember all the steps, but also you must match and flow with the music and Laurel was in trouble almost from the beginning. She would get the first section perfect then while she knew the steps to the next, her timing would go and she would make a mess it and if she got that part right she would get another wrong. She knew she was trying too hard, but couldn’t bring herself to stop trying and at the end of an hour she was so frustrated that she screamed.

‘Having trouble?’ a voice asked, in almost a whisper.

Laurel spun around to find a smartly dressed woman standing at the other end of the room. The woman looked about the same age as her mum and yet the suit she was wearing wasn’t anything like the clothes her mother wore. They were somehow old fashioned, more like the clothes worn by her grandmother in the family photo album.

‘Pardon. Can I hep you?’ asked Laurel, thinking that the woman might be lost.

‘No, but I might be able to help you,’ came the reply in the same whispery voice that had a hard rasp to it, like someone with a sore throat.

Laurel frowned and wondered what she was on about. Beside she didn’t know this strange woman and she was always wary of strangers. The woman laughed and despite the rasp the laughter had a comforting ring to it.

‘Oh dear, you should see your face, I should explain, I’m Mrs Prince, I was a dance teacher here and I was on my to see the head, when I heard the music and couldn’t resist popping in.’

At the mention of the head, Laurel relaxed, ‘Sorry about the scream, but I can’t seem to pull this new routine together.’

‘Like I said, I can help you, but you will have to show me how to work your music thingabe,’

Laurel laughed at the strange word and Mrs Prince said ‘Don’t laugh, in my day we had to make do with a piano.’

Cor, thought Laurel she must be older than she looks, even mum know to work a disk player. She showed Mrs Prince how the player worked and despite her claiming ignorance of newfangled things, as she called them, she picked it all up in a few minutes.

‘Right,’ said Mrs Prince, ‘I’ll start the music and count to three, then you begin.’ She hit the play button, the intro came on and she counted Laurel in, ‘Ready, one, two, three.’

At the count of three Laurel began the routine and as before it all came apart half way through. Mrs Prince called a halt. ‘It’s the timing, you’re starting a tad late, then subconsciously speeding up and over compensating that is why it is all going wrong. Show me the steps for whole of the routine and for the moment forget about the timing.’

Laurel shrugged, but did as she was told, this time without the music and when she had finished, Mrs Prince said, ‘Excellent. Now, this time you start the music and I’ll show you where you’re going wrong.’

Laurel again did as she was told and stood with her mouth open in disbelief as Mrs Prince danced the complicated routine step perfect, as if she had danced it forever and a day.

‘Close your mouth, Girl, you look as if you are catching flies, and follow me.’

For the next hour they dance the routine together over and over again and when they had perfected the routine Mrs Prince stepped to one side and Laurel performed solo. Laurel closed her eyes, felt the flow of the music and danced the piece in perfect rhythm. As the music died she open her eyes and did a little curtsey. Mrs Prince smiled and said, ‘Good girl, you’ve got it.’ and vanished, one moment she was there and the next she was gone.

Laurel was stunned, either she had just dreamed the whole thing, or she had spent the last hour dancing with and talking to, a ghost. It never occurred to her to be afraid, if Mrs Prince had indeed been a ghost, she had been a nice and not a nasty one. Laurel was sure of one thing, no way would she mention this to anyone, they would think she had gone crazy. Maybe she was crazy and maybe she had dreamed it all, somehow she didn’t think so, but on the other hand she might have. There was only one way to settle her mind, she needed find out if Mrs Prince ever existed.

After rehearsals she hurried to the school library and began to research the history of the school. She had to go back seventy years to find what she wanted and it was in the form of Mrs Caroline Prince’s obituary and praised a teacher who had given up a promising career on stage, dedicated her life to training children to dance and sadly died age Forty four of a throat infection. Laurel had found her ghost and she cried as she read of her death, but one thing she did know was that ghost or not Mrs Prince had been an excellent dance teacher.

Fred Watson

_____________________________________________________________

Why Don't Cats Shave?

Because they like Whiskas

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Arbeia

Brendan pulled the screen aside and opened the door behind it.

‘Cor, look at this,’ he said excitedly, as he stuck his head in the room. ‘It’s full of shields and weapons. Cool.’

‘Leave it, Brendan, it say’s private,’ I told him, but did he listen? No.

‘Come on, Sis don’t be a such a wimp, there’s no one about.’

Wimp, that was one of the words my brother was fond of saying, the others were, cool, weird and dork.

‘Me a wimp, who hides behind the settee when there’s a scary film on the TV?’

‘Not me; are you coming or what? Ella.’

I glanced behind me, the room in the commander’s villa inside Arbeia Roman fort was empty and from the silence, so was the rest of the villa. The others must have gone back out.

We had come to the Northeast on holiday because dad was born here and he wanted us to see where he used to live as a lad. The first few days were spent visiting relatives and that was OK. But after two days visiting some of dad’s old friends it soon became pretty boring, having to listen to the same stories over and over again.

Since he seemed determined to see everyone he ever knew, mum came to the rescue by suggesting that Brendan and I might like to go on a tour while she and dad visited more of his friends. I wanted to go to the Metro Land a really cool indoor fair, but of course being a boy and into weapons and all that, Brendan wanted to do the Roman tour, so we tossed a coin and I lost.

The coach picked us up at the hotel at eight o’clock. Who besides my idiot brother, gets up at that time in the morning when they’re on holiday? Well, me obviously, but under protest. Mr Mellors, our guide, a tall thin man with white hair and a matching goatee beard, welcomed us onboard and began a lecture on the Roman occupation of northern Britain, boring, boring, and boring. I slid over to the window, slipped my headphones on and stared out of the window as ‘sounds of the underground’ filled my head.

Half an hour later we had left the city behind and the coach turned onto a country road, I pulled down the earphones, Mr Mellors was still talking, something about the Roman road being built straight, a fort called Vindolanda and the wall that was built by Emperor Hadrian to keep out the wild tribes to the north.

I put on the earphones again, maybe when we reached the fort and the wall it might be more interesting. The road might have run straight, but it travelled up hill and down before the coach finally pulled into a gravel car park next to the fort.

I switch off my I Pod, followed Brendan from the coach and looked around in disappointment, there was no fort, only low stone walls more like foundations, to show where it had been and a small wooden museum come shop.

Mr Mellors gathered the group around him and began to give us a short version of the fort’s history, which went in one ear and out the other, it wasn’t so much what he was saying but the way he said it. He lectured us in the dry voice of a history professor and it was just boring. Maybe if he had been younger and cracked an occasional joke I might have been more interested. As he droned away, I slipped my earphones back on, turned up the volume and smiled as I watched his mouth open and shut; he looked like a goat, chewing on a bush.

He paused, said something, pointed towards the fort, and then headed back to the coach.

‘What did he say, Brendan?’ I asked dropping my earphones.

‘If you listened him, instead of Girls Aloud, you’d know what he said.’

‘Come on, Brendan, what did he say?’

‘He said, we have half an hour to look around, before the coach leaves, I’m going to look in the museum, there might be some weapons.’

I followed him; it had to be better than looking at some broken down walls. Inside, on the back wall facing the door was a large painting showing an aerial view of the fort, as it would have been in Roman times. The main gate was open and some legionnaires were searching a cart before allowing it inside. Above Roman soldiers patrolled the high stonewalls. Beyond them, the inside of the fort, with its workshops, barracks, stables and storehouses, was alive with activity. I could see more legionnaires on the parade ground, a blacksmith at his forge, and a baker outside his bakery, men unloading carts and carrying sacks into a warehouse.

No I hadn’t suddenly become an expert in Roman history. But having nothing better to do, I had read all the little labels on the painting. By the time Brendan dragged me into the shop, I reckon I had learnt more about the Romans in five minutes than in an hour and a half of being lectured to by Mr Mellors.

Brendan dragged me through the door, marked museum and we walked around a musty smelling room peering into dusty glass-fronted cases, boring. Even Brendan was disappointed, there were no weapons, just pieces of pottery and other small finds from the site. The shop was a little better, Brendan bought some Roman coins and I got a notebook with a centurion on the front and a pretty neat pen.

Next stop was the Roman wall and I must admit it was pretty impressive, rolling off as far as the eye could see following the contours of the high ground, it was only a pity most of it had fallen down. After seeing the painting however, I had a better idea of how it would have looked in Roman times . The coach took us back to Newcastle for lunch and then we headed for South Shield, a North Sea resort and Arbeia Roman fort. This is more like it, I thought, as I stepped down from the coach. The front entrance of the fort complete with gateway, guardhouse and stonewalls with battlements had been rebuilt and towered above us. They even had a couple of men dressed as legionnaires manning the gates.

Brendan gave a whoop and ran over to stand next to one of the men, ‘Come on, Ella take my photo,’ he shouted, bouncing up and down with excitement.

I grinned, told him to stand still and took his photo; he made me stand next to the man, while he took my photo and then ran off through the gate. He didn’t get far, Mr Mellors was waiting for us inside and gave us another of his dry lectures.

Lecture over, we were allowed to explore the walls and guardhouse above the gate. From the top of the wall I looked down in disappointment at the rest of the fort. It was surrounded on three sides by redbrick terraced houses and was the same as the one we had seen in the morning – low stonewalls set in a grid pattern. Then I noticed the group of low white painted building with red tiled roofs at the far side of the site and wondered what they were.

I found out when we returned to ground level and Mr Mellors gathered us together again. One of the buildings was a rebuilt barrack block and the other, also rebuilt, the Roman Commander’s villa, fully furnished and decorated in the Roman style. We toured the barracks first, each had a bedroom with eight bunk beds and an outer room where the men could cook and store their weapons.

From the barracks Mr Mellors led us into the villa and it was really neat. These Roman Commanders certainly lived in luxury. The villa, with its covered walkways, surrounded a courtyard with a fountain in the centre. As we moved from room to room, I became interested in my surroundings for the first time. Unfortunately it was Brendan’s turn to be bored and he tagged along moaning with every step. Until we reached the last room and he opened the door and found the weapons store.

‘Come on, Ella just a quick look, there’s no one about.’

I gave in, if I hadn’t he would have just went on and on, ‘OK, just a quick look.’

I followed him into the room it was pretty gloomy, the light from the doorway behind us the only illumination. I could see it was stacked with weaponry, shields, swords and spears.

‘Wow! This must be the armoury,’ cried Brendan, his eyes looking as if they would pop out of his head at any moment. I swear he was drooling as he ran from one stack of weapons to the next.

‘Armoury, what do you mean Armoury? Why would there be an armoury?’ Then it dawned on me and I felt like an idiot, they would be mock weapons, used for re-enactments of battles. What had I been thinking of; for a moment there I’d got it into my head that the weapons were real. If they been, they would have been on display in a museum not locked away in a storeroom. After all there had been no Romans here for nearly 2000 years.

‘Brendan don’t touch the sh….’ but I was too late he had already picked up the shield, which was nearly a tall as him and staggered backwards until he crashed into the door slamming it shut and plunging us into darkness.

I screamed, I hate the dark, then I thought of Brendan, I couldn’t see him, but what was worse, I couldn’t hear him, Oh God he might be unconscious. Shuffling forward with my hands held out in front of me I almost fell as tripped over the bottom of the shield.

‘Dork, watch what you’re doing, that hurt,’ said a muffled voice. ‘Help me get out from under this shield.’

‘I’m not the Dork, you’re the one on the floor with a shield on top of him,’ I scoffed, ‘I’ve a good mind to leave you there.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Who wouldn’t,’ I sneered.

But he was right, I wouldn’t, apart from wanting see if he was OK; I was so scared of the dark that I needed someone to hold on to, even if was only my little brother.

Brendan wasn’t really my little brother; he was twelve the same age as me, he just acted like a little boy most of the time. We were actually twins, not identical. We were the same height and build, but I had long fair hair, tied in a ponytail and blue eyes, while he had sandy hair, blue green eyes, and cheeky chubby cheeks.

‘Come on, push,’ I grunted as I heaved at the shield. It was heavier than I expected, but between us we managed to get it off him. As soon as I was sure he was Ok, I began to feel for the door handle. That was when the weird stuff began. I couldn’t even find the door never mind the handle. I felt along as far as I could to the right, and then to the left, nothing. I moaned and slid down and sat on the floor. I didn’t like this at all, we’d come through the door and now the door had disappeared.

‘You alright, sis?’ Brendan asked.

I could feel him standing above me and I looked up even though I couldn’t see him, ‘Yeah, everything’s just peachy, we’re stuck in the dark and now the door’s disappeared.’

‘It can’t have,’ he yelped in panic, and began to feel along the wall, he moved away, came back, almost fell over me, checked the other way, came back and slid down beside me and told me what I already knew, ‘The door’s gone,’ he said, ‘what are we going to do now?’

‘That easy, we’ll yell as loud as we can and somebody’s bound to hear us.’

So we yelled until our throats were sore, but no one came. By now my eyes we becoming accustomed to the dark and I could see inky patches in the blackness that could only be the stacks of weapons. Then I noticed something else at the far side of the room; two thin slivers of light joined at the top by another. This was getting scary It was obviously a door, but there had been nothing there a minute ago, suddenly it had appear out of nowhere and I didn’t like it at all.

‘Sis, look it’s a door,’ whispered Brendan

He started to get up but I pulled him back down.

‘Ow, what did you do that for, it’s a door, let’s get out of here,’ he hissed.

‘No, wait, don’t you think it’s creepy, there was nothing there, then suddenly a door appears.

‘It’s a bit weird that we didn’t see it before, maybe the sun’s at the right angle now to show up the doorway.’

I still wasn’t convinced, but hey, it was a door and we did need to get out of there.

‘Come on then, let’s see where it leads,’ I said getting to my feet and moving carefully across the room.

It was a door all right, made out of solid planks of rough timber and guess what, there was no handle. We tried to push it open; no joy, it had to be fastened on the outside and since there was no keyhole, I reckoned it had to be bolted. We began to shout and hammer on the door to attract attention, but gave up after ten minutes.

We tried peering through the cracks at either side, there was nothing to see but a thin strip of hard packed earth. We began shouting again and a carried shouting for what seemed like hours. Finally we gave up and slumped to the floor.

‘I’ve got to go,’ said Brendan.

I had been deep in thought wondering how we were going to get out, and I missed what he said. ‘What?’

‘I’ve got to go, sis, I’ve got to go.’

‘Oh great, it’s all the juice you drink, I told you to go before we left the restaurant. Can’t you hold it in?’

‘No,’ he said and shuffled away.

I shut my eyes and put my fingers in my ears, thank goodness he’s gone the other end of the room, I thought. I was still sitting with my eyes closed when he came back and slumped down beside me. We sat in silence for a while, and then I must have fallen asleep, because something woke me up.

I shook Brendan awake, ‘Whatsamatter? He mumbled sleepily.

‘Did you hear that?’ I asked.

‘What do you think? I was fast asleep until you nearly had my arm off, how was I supposed hear anything?’

That’s typical of Brendan ask him a simple enough question and you get a mouthful back.

‘A simple yes or no would have don … There it is again, that’s what woke me.’

‘The shouting?’

I paused to listen and there was the sound of shouting in the distance, but I hadn’t really noticed. ‘No, listen, that sort of a grating noise over by the door.’

‘Yeah, like someone’s pulling out the bolts.’

Suddenly the room was flooded with light as the door swung open. I closed my eyes against the glare then eased them open slowly. At first all I could see was a bright square with a dark figure in the centre, but as my eyes adjusted I began to make out details. It was a dark haired boy of about the same age as me; his legs and feet were bare, and he wore a dress? A coarse grey woollen affair that ended at his knees it had a round neck, short sleeves and was cinched at the waist with a belt.

‘Are you alright, I would have let you out sooner, but I had to wait until the legionnaires had gone.’

Legionnaires! What’s he on about? Oh, that’s it; they’re doing one of those re-enactments where they all dress up as legionnaires and locals, which would explain the dress. Cool.

‘Yeah, thanks I thought we’d be stuck in here forever,’ I said, as I stepped past him into the sun light and jumped as my foot came down on something sharp. ‘Ouch! That hu…’ the words froze in the back of my throat as I saw the reason for the pain. I’d stepped on a sharp stone with my bare foot, but I was wearing trainers. No I wasn’t, nor was I wearing any of my gear. I was dressed in a grey shift like the boy and so was Brendan.

Suddenly every thing fell into place, the scouting trip to locate the Roman arms store and being accidentally locked in when one of the centurions checked the bolts.

‘Hurry,’ said Conna. ‘We have to go now, while the Romans are occupied.’

‘Wait!’ I cried.

But he was off at a run and Brenn and I ran after him; I wanted to know how he’d drawn off the legionnaires who had been outside the door, but he was too busy dodging left and right through the streets and alleyways of the fort. We turned a corner onto a road that led to one of the gates and Conna slowed to a walk. There were soldiers everywhere all rushing towards something that was happening at the other end of the fort.

Conna jumped on the back of an empty cart that was leaving the fort and we joined him.

‘OK, Now what’s going on?’ I demanded as we passed through the gate.

He put his finger to his lips and shook his head. I was seething, I wanted to know what was going on and Conna was signing me to keep quiet, just who did he think he was.

Within 200 metres the road entered a forest and as soon as we were out of sight of the fort, I jumped down.

‘OK, That’s it, I am going nowhere until you tell me how you managed to draw off the guards.’

‘We haven’t time, Elvina. Melisos is waiting.’

‘Never mind that, how did you draw them off?’

It was important that Conna hadn’t done anything to make the Romans suspicious; we didn’t want them doubling the guards tomorrow.

‘I set a fire in the blacksmiths, no one saw me. Now will you get back on the cart.’

‘Yes, come on sis, we’re wasting time,’ said Brenn.

‘You’re sure you weren’t spotted,’ I said as I climbed back onboard.

‘Yes, they’ll think a spark caused the fire.’

We lapsed into silence as the cart moved off with a jerk and continued it’s rumbling journey through the forest, Conna lay back and closed his eyes and was asleep in no time. I didn’t blame him; it would take a while to get where we were going,

Two hours later, the cart splashed through a ford and entered a clearing full of armed men. Conna who had woken just before the ford, jumped down and headed for a large round house with a thatched roof. Brenn and I caught up with him and we stuck our heads in the door and listened for a while. It was hot inside, smelt of smoke, pig fat and sweat from the bodies of the warriors packed inside. An hour later the long skinny figure of Melisos slipped out of the round house and came looking for us. Melisos was our guardian he was also the tribe’s shaman, a medicine man, priest and magician all rolled into one. He smiled his gap toothed smile and said, ‘Well did you locate the weapons store?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Good, I‘ll tell Bennos, you go and get some food. We’ve an early start tomorrow.’

Bennos was the clan leader and it was he who had hatched the plan to destroy the fort and steal the Roman weapons. A large force of Romans were on the way north and their job was to expand the fort and destroy the local clans. Having seen first hand how the Romans had defeated the clans to the south, Bennos was convinced that by adopting Roman method and Roman Weapons the clan would stand a better chance of fighting them off.

It was pitch black when Melisos woke us and already the camp was astir as the warriors prepared for the battle to come. A splash of water to wake us, then we climbed onto the carts. Brenn and I took the first, Conna the second and Melisos the third. The carts were loaded with sacks of grain that had to be delivered to the fort – we had no choice, the Romans would not release the hostages they held until it was delivered.

It was light when we reached the edge of the forest and we could see the guards on the walls of the fort came alive as the warning horns were sounded. By the time we reached the gates the Romans were ready for us and a voice called down, ‘I see Bennos has decided to send the grain.’

I did not bother to look up, because I knew the voice and I did not want to see the grinning face of Achea the traitor who had betrayed the clan and gone over to the Romans. Conna had no such reservations and I heard him spit before calling out, ‘Why don’t you open the gates dog of the Romans, before we turn and take it back.’

Someone above us laughed and was silenced by a growled order and the gates creaked open.

‘Hup, Hup,’ I called, the cart jerked forward and trundled into the fort.

Behind I could hear the rumble as Conna followed and kept on going as the shouts erupted from the area of the gateway. It was all going to plan, Melisos’s horse had bolted seemingly for no reason and the cart had veered to one side, hitting a gatepost and a wheel came off. That was the signal for the attack to begin and a mass of warriors burst out of the forest and raced towards the gates. There was pandemonium in the fort as horns sounded and men ran towards the gates only to be attacked from behind by the warriors that had burst from the grain sacks on our carts.

Taken completely by surprise and unable to bring their cavalry into play because of the broken down cart, the Romans were scattered as the warriors swept into the fort and began to hunt them down. Conna, Brenn and I took no part in the fighting; we had other work to do. We made our way to the weapons store and began to load the carts. The first cart was full when a grinning Melisos arrived – his cart miraculously refitted with its wheel – and congratulated us. ‘Great job, you and Brenn take the cart back to the camp.’

There he goes again, trying to protect us, I know it’s what a guardian is supposed to do, but we found the weapons in the first place and there was no chance of us leaving until we had them all.

‘Send Conna,’ I said. ‘There’s no way we’re going until we have all the weapons.’

He looked at me for a moment then turned to Conna, ‘Take the cart back to the camp,’ he ordered.

Conna’s face fell, but he did as he was told and jumped up on the cart and took off for the gate. By this time there was a trace of wood smoke in the air as the warriors began to fire the fort.

‘Come on then,’ said Melisos. ‘Let’s get the job done before the fort burns down around our ears.’

All around us we could hear the sound of fighting, although none of it seemed to come near as we scurried back and forth between the store and the carts. The smoke was getting thicker and by the time we began loading the last cart I could hear the crackle of flames as they drew near. Melisos tried once more to get us to leave.

‘Why don’t you take this cart? I’ll finish loading the last one.’

‘We’ll leave when both are full,’ I said stubbornly.

Melisos did not argue he just shrugged his shoulders and headed back into the storeroom. As we worked the fire reached the end of the row and began to spread from roof to roof. When it reached the building next door Melisos said, ‘That’s it, lets go.’

Brenn ignored him and ran back in for one last load and that was when the fire jumped. One minute it was at the far side of the roof next door and the next the whole of storeroom roof was ablaze. I didn’t hesitate I ran in to get him out. Inside the air was filled with smoke and while I couldn’t see him I could hear him coughing. Ripping a strip from the hem of my shift I tied it over my nose and mouth and groped my way towards him and had only just reached him when the roof collapsed with a roar. Luckily we were near the back wall under the only part of the roof that hadn’t fallen yet, so we were alive for now. But with the way out blocked by roaring flames, the thatch above us on fire and the air filled with smoke, we wouldn’t be for long.

I put my arm around Brenn, pulled him down to floor and waited, wondering whether the smoke or the flames would kill us first. That was when Melisos appeared. How I don’t know, but suddenly he was there, covering us with his cloak and he was chanting. It was hot and stifling beneath the cloak and I could hear Melisos’s chant even above the sound of the flames. Then a strange thing happened, the sound of the flames faded then stopped, as did the chanting. I pulled the cloak back and we both scrambled to our feet. There were no flames, no smoke, only blackness, or there was, until the door opened and a tall, skinny, unmistakable figure stood silhouetted in the light . ‘Come on you two, it’s time to go home,’ said the figure.

I followed Brenn through the door, looked up into the face of Mr Mellors and noticed for the first time that he had a gap toothed smile.

Fred Watson

How do you stop a pig from smelling?

Put a peg on his nose.

_______________________________________ _______________________

A Pig In School

I took my pig to school last week

He didn’t grunt or make a squeak

Instead he had the class in stitches

When he started with his twitches

.

First his tail flicked about

Then his ears and then his snout

Soon his body looked like a jelly

As he rolled and shook his belly

.

Next he raised a great big smile

Doing a break dance in the aisle

The kids all roared and fell about

When he balanced on his snout

.

Aware now of this piggy clown

Sir stared and gave a frown

A porker dancing the aisle

Was sure to make him smile

.

But he turned on me instead

And sent me off to see the head

What he said, I will not mention

Let’s just say I got detention

.

The lesson that I learned today

Don’t take a pig to school to play

I’ll not get caught that way twice

Next time I’ll take a box of mice

Fred Watson

What's yellow and wears a mask?

The Lone Banana.

_______________________________________ _________________

I Want

Geordie was sitting in the cafe nursing a cold cup of tea and staring moodily out of the window at the rain when his mate Dave arrived.

‘Bloody rain,’ said Dave as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.

‘Aye, talk about summer; it’s hardly stopped since May,’ replied Geordie.

‘That’s the British weather for you.’

‘Aye, but it would be nice to sit in the sun occasionally.’

‘It’s nice in Cornwall.’

‘So?’

‘So, we can visit Mal.’

‘What, your cousin Mal? The one that likes a gamble.’

‘He’s into casinos now, worth a couple of hundred million, got this big gaff on the coast.’

‘And we just turn up there?’

‘No, I’ve got an open invitation, all I have to do is send him an email.’

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’

Two days later they drive up the mile long driveway to Mal’s place of residence, Shangri-la – I know, I know, what can I say? – and park between a Ferrari and Bentley.

The butler shows them to their rooms and informs them that Mr Thompson expects them for drinks by the pool in an hour. A quick shower, a change of clothes and they make their way down to the pool – it’s an Olympic size salt water pool, carved out of the rocks at one end of the private beach, next to a large lagoon. The decking that surrounds the pool is heaving with people and as they look around they spot Mal at the other side of the crowd. He waves and pushes his way over, ‘Hello Dave, long time, no see.’

‘Hi, Mal, great looking party,’ said Dave and turned to introduce Geordie.

But Geordie is staring towards the lagoon, ‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, it’s a Great White.’

‘Is it your?’

‘No it just appeared a couple of days ago, there’s underwater entrance into the lagoon from the sea.’

‘Will it be able to survive in there?’

‘No, but it will eventually find its way back out again. In the meanwhile I’ve got a bet on with that consortium of Chinese over there, that I can find somebody brave enough to swim one length of the pool, after I’ve let the shark in.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘No, I’m deadly serious.’

With that Mal gave the signal to open the gate from the lagoon and in due course the Great White swam through. Mal picked up a bullhorn and crowd quietened. ‘Ok here is the deal,’ said Mal, ‘anyone who jumps into the pool, swims one length and get out the other end in one piece, can have their hearts desire. They only have to tell me what they want and it is theirs.’

No one made a move, the silence deepened, suddenly there was a splash and Geordie was in the water and swimming like the clappers up the pool. The shark turned in behind him; his arms and legs were going ninety to the dozen. The beast began to close in, Geordie looked behind and his arms and legs became a blur as he sped up, he reached the end of the pool shot up the steps and collapsed on the decking.

Dave and Mal raced to his side, Geordie lay there gasping for breath.

‘You did it,’ cried Dave.

‘Tell me what you want,’ cried Mal

‘I want…’ gasped Geordie.

‘Yes?’

‘I want to get…’

‘Yes! Yes!’

‘I want to get a hold of the prat that pushed me in the pool.’

Copyright Fred Watson August 2007.

_______________________________________ _______________________

What is a crowbar?

A place where crows go to drink!

_______________________________________ ____________________

A great T-rex

My teacher turned into a dinosaur

A great T-rex with teeth galore

He scanned the class for his prey

And his beady eye looked my way

.

He gave a roar that shook my head

I thought, oh no, I think I’m dead

He smiled with a tooth filled jaw

And hit the desk with a ragged claw

.

He growled deep down in his chest

I squirmed inside and tried my best

But I blanked and could not guess

Who on earth was Good Queen Bess?

Fred Watson

I have ten legs, twenty arms and fifty- four feet. What am I?

A Fibber.

_______________________________________ ____________________

Football Crazy

Michael was mad on football. Whenever you saw him he was kicking a ball. He was always kicking it around the garden or against the gable wall or in the park. The only place his mum would not let him kick it was in the front street. They lived in a short street at the top of a hill and she was afraid that the ball would run onto the busy road at the end of the street.

Michael couldn’t understand why his mum was so worried. After all, if the ball went onto the road it couldn’t do much harm, could it? Still, most of the time he obeyed his mum and only kicked it along the street occasionally when he was on his way to the park.

Then one day, you guessed it, he kick the ball too hard and as it flew across the road he ran after it. Suddenly there was a squeal of brakes and he dived to one side landing painfully on his arm. Then there was a great bang as a car swerved around him and crashed into a van parked at the side of the road. The crash must have damaged the van’s hand brake and the van began to roll backwards down the hill. Faster and faster it rolled right down the middle of the road. All the traffic coming up the hill had to swerve out of the way. Several cars crashed into other cars parked at the side of the road, two smashed through garden fences, a bus full of passengers demolished a wall and ended up in someone’s front garden.

By now the van travelling at a tremendous speed, was tearing towards a bend at the bottom of the road. As it reached the bend it shot between two parked cars, mounted the pavement and with a great crash and a shower of glass buried itself in the butchers shop window. For a moment there was silence while the dust settled, then there was a whoosh as the leaking petrol ignited and the van burst into flames. Luckily it was Wednesday afternoon, the shop was closed and the fire station was in the next street.

At the top of the hill Michael held onto his arm as he looked down open mouthed at disaster his ball had caused and understood why his mum insisted that he never play with his ball in the street. The fire brigade arrived and put out the fire, the paramedics came in their ambulance and checked everyone out and the only one hurt was Michael, who had broken his arm and had to go to hospital. Later with his arm in plaster he was questioned by the police, given a right ticking off and told never ever to kick his ball in the street again.

It cost a lot of money and took two months for everything to be repaired and all because Michael was stupid enough to kick a ball when he was told not too.

Fred Watson.

Who was the father of the Black Prince?

Old King Coal.

_______________________________________ ______________________

Fibber, Fibber

Peter was a fibber, for some reason he just could not tell the truth. If someone asked him what time the bus was due, he would say he did not know, even though the bus stop was right outside his front door and the bus came every twenty minutes. He was the same in school. If he were caught talking in class, he would look all innocent and claim it was not him. Which was pretty nasty because others would get the blame.

It became so bad that one Saturday his friends decided to teach him a lesson. Jeff asked if he would like to go on a trip with them to the ice rink.

‘Great,’ said Peter. ‘It’s ages since I’ve been skating.’

‘Oh, can you skate then?’ asked Jeff.

‘I sure can, I used to go a lot last year,’ peter fibbed.

On Saturday morning Peter asked his mum if he could go, but she wasn’t sure, ‘ I don’t know it’s a long way and you might get lost.’

‘But Mum the others go every week and they know the way,’ said Peter, which was a fib, because the others had only been a few times before.

‘Still I would be happier if an adult was going with you.’

‘Oh, that’s OK then, because Jeff’s mum is taking us.’ Peter fibbed again.

‘In that case you can go,’ his mum said and gave him enough money to cover the bus fare, the ice rink and a little extra to spend.

Saying goodbye to his mum, Peter walk over to Jeff’s house at the other end of the village. Jeff had told him to be there for ten o’clock. But when he arrived Jeff was still in bed and he had to wait an hour until he got up, got ready and had his breakfast. Score one to Peter’s friends.

The others, Jason, Charlie and Rob arrived at eleven o’clock and they all walked to the bus stop. Peter, who was first on, gave the driver a pound and asked for a ticket to the ice rink. ‘That will be another fifty pence then, it’s one pound fifty to the ice rink.’ Peter frowned and gave the driver another fifty pence, he was sure that Rob had told him the fare was one pound. Score two to Peter’s friends.

When they reached the ice rink Peter placed two pounds on the counter and said, ‘One please.’

Imagine his surprise when the lady said, ‘I need another pound, it’s three pound to get in.’

Yesterday when peter had asked Jason how much it was, he was sure that he had said two pounds. He must have misheard; Jason was his friend and would not lie to him. Score three to Peter’s friends.

They each picked up a pair of ice skates from the desk and sat down to put them on. After having lied to Jeff about being able to skate, Peter watched the others carefully and laced his boots up tightly. Charlie suggested that he should slacken them off a bit as they were too tight, so Peter did and when he stepped on the ice, fell flat on his back. Score four to Peter’s friends

Jeff and Rob helped him up and said they would hold his hands and take him around until he got used to the skates, but they started to go faster and faster, then suddenly they let go and with arms wind milling peter flew across the ice until he finally lost his balance and ended up skating on his bum. Score five to Peter’s friends.

When the skating session was over they handed in the boots and made their way to the café inside the ice rink. The others ordered a hot dog and a drink each, but peter only had one pound fifty left and he needed that for his bus fare. He spent a pound on a sausage roll and the others promised give him their change to make up his bus fare. But later when they got to the bus stop and gave him the change, he was twenty-five pence short and he had to get off when his money ran out and walk the rest of the way to the village. His friends waved and smiled as they continued their journey on the bus. Score six to Peter’s friends.

Peter was fed up, he had never had such a bad day, his friends had lied to him and he did not like it at all. Now he knew how others felt when he told them lies and he vowed never to be a fibber again.

Fred Watson

_______________________________________ ___________________

What do you get if you cross a mouse and a deer?

Mickey Moose.

_______________________________________ ____________________

Sarah's Puppy

"Mum", Sarah shouted. "I've seen a cute puppy on T.V.

"No, I know what you're going to say," replied her mum.

"But."

"But nothing"

Sarah sighed, "It's only a £100." I know I'll ask Dad, she thought.

Mum must have known what she was thinking because she said, "There's no point in asking your dad because he will say no as well."

Soon Sarah forgot about the puppy and decided to ask for a rabbit. "Dad" she said "I've seen a rabbit on T.V., can you get it for me?"

"No!" said Dad. "Anyway I thought it was a puppy you wanted."

"I know I'll have both." Said Sarah.

"Definitely not!" Dad had heard enough.

It's not fair, Sarah thought her best friend who lived on Hardakers Lane seemed to get everything she wanted.

Every time she said this to her mum, she would say, "Well, you're not her."

Soon Sarah gave up on the rabbit but carried on with the puppy.

It was the night before her 8th birthday and Sarah was very excited. "I wonder what I should call my puppy," she said to her Mum and Dad when they were tucking her in.

"What puppy? said Dad.

"The one that will be wrapped up waiting for me in the living room in the morning".

"Well, go to sleep and wait and see." Mum said as she kissed her goodnight.

Sarah could not get to sleep she was so excited for the morning. You see Sarah only likes Birthdays when it's her own.

"Wakey, wakey" mum shouted.

Sarah jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. She had some lovely surprises. She got pink fluffy slippers, nice new clothes and a Nintendo DS. She was still waiting to open her puppy and there was only one present left. Sarah took a deep breath as she opened it, hoping that the puppy was inside. Would it be a black one, or brown, or perhaps it would be the patchy one.

She opened the wrapping gently and saw a HAMSTER! "Mum, there's something wrong I wanted a cute puppy that needs rescued."

"1 want never gets." Said mum.

So Sarah never wanted to feed the hamster or clean it out. She did nothing with it.

Mum suggested they called the hamster Hammy. Sarah reluctantly agreed. They went upstairs to tell Dad. He was decorating the staircase. "Dad," Sarah said, "Mum's named the hamster Hammy."

"Great, that's alliteration." He said

Sarah still didn't take any notice of Hammy. She was fed up and too busy thinking about the cute puppy.

Eventually though she decided to stop with all the puppy business and started behaving normally again. She did the things that she had done before like going to her best friends house and spending time with her family. She even started to feed and clean out Hammy, soon she thought he was the best Birthday present ever.

Bethany Watson aged 7 nearly 8 Typed up by her Mum.

_______________________________________ ___________

Alliteration was a word Bethany learnt at school.