We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today. ~Stacia Tauscher
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jones
A characteristic of the normal child is he doesn't act that way very often. ~Author Unknown
A child can ask questions that a wise man cannot answer. ~Author Unknown
Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it. ~Harold Hulbert
A three year old child is a being who gets almost as much fun out of a fifty-six dollar set of swings as it does out of finding a small green worm. ~Bill Vaughan
Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music. ~William Stafford
Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see. ~John W. Whitehead, The Stealing of America, 1983
Children are one third of our population and all of our future. ~Select Panel for the Promotion of Child Health, 1981
Even when freshly washed and relieved of all obvious confections, children tend to be sticky. ~Fran Lebowitz
You are worried about seeing him spend his early years in doing nothing. What! Is it nothing to be happy? Nothing to skip, play, and run around all day long? Never in his life will he be so busy again. ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile, 1762
In the United States today, there is a pervasive tendency to treat children as adults, and adults as children. The options of children are thus steadily expanded, while those of adults are progressively constricted. The result is unruly children and childish adults. ~Thomas Szasz
Children are unpredictable. You never know what inconsistency they're going to catch you in next. ~Franklin P. Jones
Children make you want to start life over. ~Muhammad Ali
Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it. ~Not Your Average Dictionary
I am fond of children - except boys. ~Lewis Carroll
Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children. ~George Bernard Shaw
Like fruit, children are sweetest just before they turn bad. ~Dena Groquet
There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Children seldom misquote. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said. ~Author Unknown
A little girl is sugar and spice and everything nice - especially when she's taking a nap. ~Author Unknown
A child is a curly dimpled lunatic. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
In America there are two classes of travel - first class, and with children. ~Robert Benchley
The prime purpose of being four is to enjoy being four - of secondary importance is to prepare for being five. ~Jim Trelease, The Read-Aloud Handbook,
Youth is a perpetual intoxication; it is a fever of the mind. ~François Duc de la Rochefoucauld
Little girls are cute and small only to adults. To one another they are not cute. They are life-sized. ~Margaret Atwood
While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt
What is a home without children? Quiet. ~Henny Youngman
It is not easy to be crafty and winsome at the same time, and few accomplish it after the age of six. ~John W. Gardner and Francesca Gardner Reese
There are only two things a child will share willingly - communicable diseases and his mother's age. ~Benjamin Spock, Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care, 1945
Do your kids a favor - don't have any. ~Robert Orben
Children find everything in nothing; men find nothing in everything. ~Giacomo Leopardi, Zibaldone Scelto
Children's talent to endure stems from their ignorance of alternatives. ~Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, 1969
Our genes make us immortal. ~The Secret of Life, PBS
Women gather together to wear silly hats, eat dainty food, and forget how unresponsive their husbands are. Men gather to talk sports, eat heavy food, and forget how demanding their wives are. Only where children gather is there any real chance of fun. ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960
Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing. ~Phyllis Diller
Anyone who thinks the art of conversation is dead ought to tell a child to go to bed. ~Robert Gallagher
Any kid will run any errand for you if you ask at bedtime. ~Red Skelton
The only thing worth stealing is a kiss from a sleeping child. ~Joe Houldsworth
There's nothing that can help you understand your beliefs more than trying to explain them to an inquisitive child. ~Frank A. Clark
If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ~Edgar W. Howe
The real menace in dealing with a five-year-old is that in no time at all you begin to sound like a five-year-old. ~Joan Kerr, Please Don't Eat the Daisies, 1957
Children are contemptuous, haughty, irritable, envious, sneaky, selfish, lazy, flighty, timid, liars and hypocrites, quick to laugh and cry, extreme in expressing joy and sorrow, especially about trifles, they'll do anything to avoid pain but they enjoy inflicting it: little men already. ~Jean de La Bruyère, Les Caractères, 1688
There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff
Friday 31 August 2007
Thursday 30 August 2007
Beware of the Dog
Roald Dahl (1916-1990)
DOWN below there was only a vast white undulating sea of cloud. Above there was the sun, and the sun was white like the clouds, because it is never yellow when one looks at it from high in the air.
He was still flying the Spitfire. His right hand was on the stick, and he was working the rudder bar with his left leg alone. It was quite easy. The machine was flying well, and he knew what he was doing.
Everything is fine, he thought. I'm doing all right. I'm doing nicely. I know my way home. I'll be there in half an hour. When I land I shall taxi in and switch off my engine and I shall say, help me to get out, will you. I shall make my voice sound ordinary and natural and none of them will take any notice. Then I shall say, someone help me to get out. I can't do it alone because I've lost one of my legs. They'll all laugh and think that I'm joking, and I shall say, all right, come and have a look, you unbelieving bastards. Then Yorky will climb up onto the wing and look inside. He'll probably be sick because of all the blood and the mess. I shall laugh and say, for God's sake, help me out.
He glanced down again at his right leg. There was not much of it left. The cannon shell had taken him on the thigh, just above the knee, and now there was nothing but a great mess and a lot of blood. But there was no pain. When he looked down, he felt as though he were seeing something that did not belong to him. It had nothing to do with him. It was just a mess which happened to be there in the cockpit; something strange and unusual and rather interesting. It was like finding a dead cat on the sofa.
He really felt fine, and because he still felt fine, he felt excited and unafraid.
I won't even bother to call up on the radio for the blood wagon, he thought. It isn't necessary. And when I land I'll sit there quite normally and say, some of you fellows come and help me out, will you, because I've lost one of my legs. That will be funny. I'll laugh a little while I'm saying it; I'll say it calmly and slowly, and they'll think I'm joking. When Yorky comes up onto the wing and gets sick, I'll say, Yorky, you old son of a bitch, have you fixed my car yet? Then when I get out I'll make my report and later I'll go up to London. I'll take that half bottle of whisky with me and I'll give it to Bluey. We'll sit in her room and drink it. I'll get the water out of the bathroom tap. I won't say much until it's time to go to bed, then Ill say, Bluey, I've got a surprise for you. I lost a leg today. But I don't mind so long as you don't. It doesn't even hurt. We'll go everywhere in cars. I always hated walking, except when I walked down the street of the coppersmiths in Bagdad, but I could go in a rickshaw. I could go home and chop wood, but the head always flies off the ax. Hot water, that's what it needs; put it in the bath and make the handle swell. I chopped lots of wood last time I went home, and I put the ax in the bath. . . .
Then he saw the sun shining on the engine cowling of his machine. He saw the rivets in the metal, and he remembered where he was. He realized that he was no longer feeling good; that he was sick and giddy. His head kept falling forward onto his chest because his neck seemed no longer to have any strength. But he knew that he was flying the Spitfire, and he could feel the handle of the stick between the fingers of his right hand.
I'm going to pass out, he thought. Any moment now I'm going to pass out.
He looked at his altimeter. Twenty-one thousand. To test himself he tried to read the hundreds as well as the thousands. Twenty-one thousand and what? As he looked the dial became blurred, and he could not even see the needle. He knew then that he must bail out; that there was not a second to lose, otherwise he would become unconscious. Quickly, frantically, he tried to slide back the hood with his left hand, but he had not the strength. For a second he took his right hand off the stick, and with both hands he managed to push the hood back. The rush of cold air on his face seemed to help. He had a moment of great clearness, and his actions became orderly and precise. That is what happens with a good pilot. He took some quick deep breaths from his oxygen mask, and as he did so, he looked out over the side of the cockpit. Down below there was only a vast white sea of cloud, and he realized that he did not know where he was.
It'll be the Channel, he thought. I'm sure to fall in the drink.
He throttled back, pulled off his helmet, undid his straps, and pushed the stick hard over to the left. The Spitfire dripped its port wing, and turned smoothly over onto its back. The pilot fell out.
As he fell he opened his eyes, because he knew that he must not pass out before he had pulled the cord. On one side he saw the sun; on the other he saw the whiteness of the clouds, and as he fell, as he somersaulted in the air, the white clouds chased the sun and the sun chased the clouds. They chased each other in a small circle; they ran faster and faster, and there was the sun and the clouds and the clouds and the sun, and the clouds came nearer until suddenly there was no longer any sun, but only a great whiteness. The whole world was white, and there was nothing in it. It was so white that sometimes it looked black, and after a time it was either white or black, but mostly it was white. He watched it as it turned from white to black, and then back to white again, and the white stayed for a long time, but the black lasted only for a few seconds. He got into the habit of going to sleep during the white periods, and of waking up just in time to see the world when it was black. But the black was very quick. Sometimes it was only a flash, like someone switching off the light, and switching it on again at once, and so whenever it was white, he dozed off.
One day, when it was white, he put out a hand and he touched something. He took it between his fingers and crumpled it. For a time he lay there, idly letting the tips of his fingers play with the thing which they had touched. Then slowly he opened his eyes, looked down at his hand, and saw that he was holding something which was white. It was the edge of a sheet. He knew it was a sheet because he could see the texture of the material and the stitchings on the hem. He screwed up his eyes, and opened them again quickly. This time he saw the room. He saw the bed in which he was lying; he saw the grey walls and the door and the green curtains over the window. There were some roses on the table by his bed.
Then he saw the basin on the table near the roses. It was a white enamel basin, and beside it there was a small medicine glass.
This is a hospital, he thought. I am in a hospital. But he could remember nothing. He lay back on his pillow, looking at the ceiling and wondering what had happened. He was gazing at the smooth greyness of the ceiling which was so clean and gray, and then suddenly he saw a fly walking upon it. The sight of this fly, the suddenness of seeing this small black speck on a sea of gray, brushed the surface of his brain, and quickly, in that second, he remembered everything. He remembered the Spitfire and he remembered the altimeter showing twenty-one thousand feet. He remembered the pushing back of the hood with both hands, and he remembered the bailing out. He remembered his leg.
It seemed all right now. He looked down at the end of the bed, but he could not tell. He put one hand underneath the bedclothes and felt for his knees. He found one of them, but when he felt for the other, his hand touched something which was soft and covered in bandages.
Just then the door opened and a nurse came in.
"Hello," she said. "So you've waked up at last."
She was not good-looking, but she was large and clean. She was between thirty and forty and she had fair hair. More than that he did not notice.
"Where am I?"
"You're a lucky fellow. You landed in a wood near the beach. You're in Brighton. They brought you in two days ago, and now you're all fixed up. You look fine."
"I've lost a leg," he said.
"That's nothing. We'll get you another one. Now you must go to sleep. The doctor will be coming to see you in about an hour." She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.
But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut them again everything would go away. He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run forward very fast for a few inches, then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every now and then it would take off and buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling and started running and stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but only a black speck upon a sea of gray, and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the doctor came in. He was an Army doctor, a major, and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he had a cheerful face and kind eyes.
"Well, well," he said. "So you've decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?"
"I feel all right."
"That's the stuff. You'll be up and about in no time."
The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.
"By the way," he said, "some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about you. They wanted to come along and see you, but I said that they'd better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that they could come and see you a little later on. Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?" He glanced at the table with the roses. "No. Well, nurse will look after you. She'll get you anything you want." With that he waved his hand and went out, followed by the large clean nurse.
When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again. The fly was still there and as he lay watching it he heard the noise of an airplane in the distance. He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way away. I wonder what it is, he thought. Let me see if I can place it. Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone who has been bombed can tell the noise of a Junkers 88. They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but especially a Junkers 88. The engines seem to sing a duet. There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor. It is the singing of the tenor which makes the sound of a JU-88 something which one cannot mistake.
He lay listening to the noise, and he felt quite certain about what it was. But where were the sirens, and where the guns? That German pilot certainly had a nerve coming near Brighton alone in daylight.
The aircraft was always far away, and soon the noise faded away into the distance. Later on there was another. This one, too, was far away, but there was the same deep undulating bass and the high singing tenor, and there was no mistaking it. He had heard that noise every day during the battle.
He was puzzled. There was a bell on the table by the bed. He reached out his hand and rang it. He heard the noise of footsteps down the corridor, and the nurse came in.
"Nurse, what were those airplanes?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I didn't hear them. Probably fighters or bombers. I expect they were returning from France. Why, what's the matter?"
"They were JU-88's. I'm sure they were JU-88's. I know the sound of the engines. There were two of them. What were they doing over here?"
The nurse came up to the side of his bed and began to straighten out the sheets and tuck them in under the mattress.
"Gracious me, what things you imagine. You mustn't worry about a thing like that. Would you like me to get you something to read?"
"No, thank you."
She patted his pillow and brushed back the hair from his forehead with her hand.
"They never come over in daylight any longer. You know that. They were probably Lancasters or Flying Fortresses."
"Nurse."
"Yes."
"Could I have a cigarette?"
"Why certainly you can."
She went out and came back almost at once with a packet of Players and some matches. She handed one to him and when he had put it in his mouth, she struck a match and lit it.
"If you want me again," she said, "just ring the bell," and she went out.
Once toward evening he heard the noise of another aircraft. It was far away, but even so he knew that it was a single-engined machine. But he could not place it. It was going fast; he could tell that. But it wasn't a Spit, and it wasn't a Hurricane. It did not sound like an American engine either. They make more noise. He did not know what it was, and it worried him greatly. Perhaps I am very ill, he thought. Perhaps I am imagining things. Perhaps I am a little delirious. I simply do not know what to think.
That evening the nurse came in with a basin of hot water and began to wash him.
"Well," she said, "I hope you don't still think that we're being bombed."
She had taken off his pajama top and was soaping his right arm with a flannel. He did not answer.
She rinsed the flannel in the water, rubbed more soap on it, and began to wash his chest.
"You're looking fine this evening," she said. "They operated on you as soon as you came in. They did a marvelous job. You'll be all right. I've got a brother in the RAF," she added. "Flying bombers."
He said, "I went to school in Brighton."
She looked up quickly. "Well, that's fine," she said. "I expect you'll know some people in the town."
"Yes," he said, "I know quite a few."
She had finished washing his chest and arms, and now she turned back the bedclothes, so that his left leg was uncovered. She did it in such a way that his bandaged stump remained under the sheets. She undid the cord of his pajama trousers and took them off. There was no trouble because they had cut off the right trouser leg, so that it could not interfere with the bandages. She began to wash his left leg and the rest of his body. This was the first time he had had a bed bath, and he was embarrassed. She laid a towel under his leg, and she was washing his foot with the flannel. She said, "This wretched soap won't lather at all. It's the water. It's as hard as nails."
He said, "None of the soap is very good now and, of course, with hard water it's hopeless." As he said it he remembered something. He remembered the baths which he used to take at school in Brighton, in the long stone-floored bathroom which had four baths in a room. He remembered how the water was so soft that you had to take a shower afterwards to get all the soap off your body, and he remembered how the foam used to float on the surface of the water, so that you could not see your legs underneath. He remembered that sometimes they were given calcium tablets because the school doctor used to say that soft water was bad for the teeth.
"In Brighton," he said, "the water isn't . . ."
He did not finish the sentence. Something had occurred to him; something so fantastic and absurd that for a moment he felt like telling the nurse about it and having a good laugh.
She looked up. "The water isn't what?" she said.
"Nothing," he answered. "I was dreaming.
She rinsed the flannel in the basin, wiped the soap off his leg, and dried him with a towel.
"It's nice to be washed," he said. "I feel better." He was feeling his face with his hands. "I need a shave."
"We'll do that tomorrow," she said. "Perhaps you can do it yourself then."
That night he could not sleep. He lay awake thinking of the Junkers 88's and of the hardness of the water. He could think of nothing else. They were JU-88's, he said to himself. I know they were. And yet it is not possible, because they would not be flying around so low over here in broad daylight. I know that it is true, and yet I know that it is impossible. Perhaps I am ill. Perhaps I am behaving like a fool and do not know what I am doing or saying. Perhaps I am delirious. For a long time he lay awake thinking these things, and once he sat up in bed and said aloud, "I will prove that I am not crazy. I will make a little speech about something complicated and intellectual. I will talk about what to do with Germany after the war." But before he had time to begin, he was asleep.
He woke just as the first light of day was showing through the slit in the curtains over the window. The room was still dark, but he could tell that it was already beginning to get light outside. He lay looking at the grey light which was showing through the slit in the curtain, and as he lay there he remembered the day before. He remembered the Junkers 88's and the hardness of the water; he remembered the large pleasant nurse and the kind doctor, and now the small grain of doubt took root in his mind and it began to grow.
He looked around the room. The nurse had taken the roses out the night before, and there was nothing except the table with a packet of cigarettes, a box of matches and an ash tray. Otherwise, it was bare. It was no longer warm or friendly. It was not even comfortable. It was cold and empty and very quiet.
Slowly the grain of doubt grew, and with it came fear, a light, dancing fear that warned but did not frighten; the kind of fear that one gets not because one is afraid, but because one feels that there is something wrong. Quickly the doubt and the fear grew so that he became restless and angry, and when he touched his forehead with his hand, he found that it was damp with sweat. He knew then that he must do something; that he must find some way of proving to himself that he was either right or wrong, and he looked up and saw again the window and the green curtains. From where he lay, that window was right in front of him, but it was fully ten yards away. Somehow he must reach it and look out. The idea became an obsession with him, and soon he could think of nothing except the window. But what about his leg? He put his hand underneath the bedclothes and felt the thick bandaged stump which was all that was left on the right-hand side. It seemed all right. It didn't hurt. But it would not be easy.
He sat up. Then he pushed the bedclothes aside and put his left leg on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he swung his body over until he had both hands on the floor as well; and then he was out of bed, kneeling on the carpet. He looked at the stump. It was very short and thick, covered with bandages. It was beginning to hurt and he could feel it throbbing. He wanted to collapse, lie down on the carpet and do nothing, but he knew that he must go on.
With two arms and one leg, he crawled over towards the window. He would reach forward as far as he could with his arms, then he would give a little jump and slide his left leg along after them. Each time he did, it jarred his wound so that he gave a soft grunt of pain, but he continued to crawl across the floor on two hands and one knee. When he got to the window he reached up, and one at a time he placed both hands on the sill. Slowly he raised himself up until he was standing on his left leg. Then quickly he pushed aside the curtains and looked out.
He saw a small house with a gray tiled roof standing alone beside a narrow lane, and immediately behind it there was a plowed field. In front of the house there was an untidy garden, and there was a green hedge separating the garden from the lane. He was looking at the hedge when he saw the sign. It was just a piece of board nailed to the top of a short pole, and because the hedge had not been trimmed for a long time, the branches had grown out around the sign so that it seemed almost as though it had been placed in the middle of the hedge. There was something written on the board with white paint, and he pressed his head against the glass of the window, trying to read what it said. The first letter was a G, he could see that. The second was an A, and the third was an R. One after another he managed to see what the letters were. There were three words, and slowly he spelled the letters out aloud to himself as he managed to read them. G-A-R-D-E A-U C-H-I-E-N. Garde au chien. That is what it said.
He stood there balancing on one leg and holding tightly to the edges of the window sill with his hands, staring at the sign and at the whitewashed lettering of the words. For a moment he could think of nothing at all. He stood there looking at the sign, repeating the words over and over to himself, and then slowly he began to realize the full meaning of the thing. He looked up at the cottage and at the plowed field. He looked at the small orchard on the left of the cottage and he looked at the green countryside beyond. "So this is France," he said. "I am France."
Now the throbbing in his right thigh was very great. It felt as though someone was pounding the end of his stump with a hammer, and suddenly the pain became so intense that it affected his head and for a moment he thought he was going to fall. Quickly he knelt down again, crawled back to the bed and hoisted himself in. He pulled the bedclothes over himself and lay back on the pillow, exhausted. He could still think of nothing at all except the small sign by the hedge, and the plowed field and the orchard. It was the words on the sign that he could not forget.
It was some time before the nurse came in. She came carrying a basin of hot water and she said, "Good morning, how are you today?"
He said, "Good morning, nurse."
The pain was still great under the bandages, but he did not wish to tell this woman anything. He looked at her as she busied herself with getting the washing things ready. He looked at her more carefully now. Her hair was very fair. She was tall and big-boned, and her face seemed pleasant. But there was something a little uneasy about her eyes. They were never still. They never looked at anything for more than a moment and they moved too quickly from one place to another in the room. There was something about her movements also. They were too sharp and nervous to go well with the casual manner in which she spoke.
She set down the basin, took off his pajama top and began to wash him.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes."
"Good," she said. She was washing his arms and his chest.
"I believe there's someone coming down to see you from the Air Ministry after breakfast," she went on. "They want a report or something. I expect you know all about it. How you got shot down and all that. I won't let him stay long, so don't worry."
He did not answer. She finished washing him, and gave him a toothbrush and some tooth powder. He brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and spat the water out into the basin.
Later she brought him his breakfast on a tray, but he did not want to eat. He was still feeling weak and sick, and he wished only to lie still and think about what had happened. And there was a sentence running through his head. It was a sentence which Johnny, the Intelligence Officer of his squadron, always repeated to the pilots every day before they went out. He could see Johnny now, leaning against the wall of the dispersal hut with his pipe in his hand, saying, "And if they get you, don't forget, just your name, rank and number. Nothing else. For God's sake, say nothing else."
"There you are," she said as she put the tray on his lap. "I've got you an egg. Can you manage all right?"
"Yes."
She stood beside the bed. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes."
"Good. If you want another egg I might be able to get you one."
"This is all right."
"Well, just ring the bell if you want any more." And she went out.
He had just finished eating, when the nurse came in again.
She said, "Wing Commander Roberts is here. I've told him that he can only stay for a few minutes."
She beckoned with her hand and the Wing Commander came in.
"Sorry to bother you like this," he said.
He was an ordinary RAF officer, dressed in a uniform which was a little shabby, and he wore wings and a DFC. He was fairly tall and thin with plenty of black hair. His teeth, which were irregular and widely spaced, stuck out a little even when he closed his mouth. As he spoke he took a printed form and a pencil from his pocket, and he pulled up a chair and sat down.
"How are you feeling?"
There was no answer.
"Tough luck about your leg. I know how you feel. I hear you put up a fine show before they got you."
The man in the bed was lying quite still, watching the man in the chair.
The man in the chair said, "Well, let's get this stuff over. I'm afraid you'll have to answer a few questions so that I can fill in this combat report. Let me see now, first of all, what was your squadron?"
The man in the bed did not move. He looked straight at the Wing Commander and he said, "My name is Peter Williamson. My rank is Squadron Leader and my number is nine seven two four five seven."
DOWN below there was only a vast white undulating sea of cloud. Above there was the sun, and the sun was white like the clouds, because it is never yellow when one looks at it from high in the air.
He was still flying the Spitfire. His right hand was on the stick, and he was working the rudder bar with his left leg alone. It was quite easy. The machine was flying well, and he knew what he was doing.
Everything is fine, he thought. I'm doing all right. I'm doing nicely. I know my way home. I'll be there in half an hour. When I land I shall taxi in and switch off my engine and I shall say, help me to get out, will you. I shall make my voice sound ordinary and natural and none of them will take any notice. Then I shall say, someone help me to get out. I can't do it alone because I've lost one of my legs. They'll all laugh and think that I'm joking, and I shall say, all right, come and have a look, you unbelieving bastards. Then Yorky will climb up onto the wing and look inside. He'll probably be sick because of all the blood and the mess. I shall laugh and say, for God's sake, help me out.
He glanced down again at his right leg. There was not much of it left. The cannon shell had taken him on the thigh, just above the knee, and now there was nothing but a great mess and a lot of blood. But there was no pain. When he looked down, he felt as though he were seeing something that did not belong to him. It had nothing to do with him. It was just a mess which happened to be there in the cockpit; something strange and unusual and rather interesting. It was like finding a dead cat on the sofa.
He really felt fine, and because he still felt fine, he felt excited and unafraid.
I won't even bother to call up on the radio for the blood wagon, he thought. It isn't necessary. And when I land I'll sit there quite normally and say, some of you fellows come and help me out, will you, because I've lost one of my legs. That will be funny. I'll laugh a little while I'm saying it; I'll say it calmly and slowly, and they'll think I'm joking. When Yorky comes up onto the wing and gets sick, I'll say, Yorky, you old son of a bitch, have you fixed my car yet? Then when I get out I'll make my report and later I'll go up to London. I'll take that half bottle of whisky with me and I'll give it to Bluey. We'll sit in her room and drink it. I'll get the water out of the bathroom tap. I won't say much until it's time to go to bed, then Ill say, Bluey, I've got a surprise for you. I lost a leg today. But I don't mind so long as you don't. It doesn't even hurt. We'll go everywhere in cars. I always hated walking, except when I walked down the street of the coppersmiths in Bagdad, but I could go in a rickshaw. I could go home and chop wood, but the head always flies off the ax. Hot water, that's what it needs; put it in the bath and make the handle swell. I chopped lots of wood last time I went home, and I put the ax in the bath. . . .
Then he saw the sun shining on the engine cowling of his machine. He saw the rivets in the metal, and he remembered where he was. He realized that he was no longer feeling good; that he was sick and giddy. His head kept falling forward onto his chest because his neck seemed no longer to have any strength. But he knew that he was flying the Spitfire, and he could feel the handle of the stick between the fingers of his right hand.
I'm going to pass out, he thought. Any moment now I'm going to pass out.
He looked at his altimeter. Twenty-one thousand. To test himself he tried to read the hundreds as well as the thousands. Twenty-one thousand and what? As he looked the dial became blurred, and he could not even see the needle. He knew then that he must bail out; that there was not a second to lose, otherwise he would become unconscious. Quickly, frantically, he tried to slide back the hood with his left hand, but he had not the strength. For a second he took his right hand off the stick, and with both hands he managed to push the hood back. The rush of cold air on his face seemed to help. He had a moment of great clearness, and his actions became orderly and precise. That is what happens with a good pilot. He took some quick deep breaths from his oxygen mask, and as he did so, he looked out over the side of the cockpit. Down below there was only a vast white sea of cloud, and he realized that he did not know where he was.
It'll be the Channel, he thought. I'm sure to fall in the drink.
He throttled back, pulled off his helmet, undid his straps, and pushed the stick hard over to the left. The Spitfire dripped its port wing, and turned smoothly over onto its back. The pilot fell out.
As he fell he opened his eyes, because he knew that he must not pass out before he had pulled the cord. On one side he saw the sun; on the other he saw the whiteness of the clouds, and as he fell, as he somersaulted in the air, the white clouds chased the sun and the sun chased the clouds. They chased each other in a small circle; they ran faster and faster, and there was the sun and the clouds and the clouds and the sun, and the clouds came nearer until suddenly there was no longer any sun, but only a great whiteness. The whole world was white, and there was nothing in it. It was so white that sometimes it looked black, and after a time it was either white or black, but mostly it was white. He watched it as it turned from white to black, and then back to white again, and the white stayed for a long time, but the black lasted only for a few seconds. He got into the habit of going to sleep during the white periods, and of waking up just in time to see the world when it was black. But the black was very quick. Sometimes it was only a flash, like someone switching off the light, and switching it on again at once, and so whenever it was white, he dozed off.
One day, when it was white, he put out a hand and he touched something. He took it between his fingers and crumpled it. For a time he lay there, idly letting the tips of his fingers play with the thing which they had touched. Then slowly he opened his eyes, looked down at his hand, and saw that he was holding something which was white. It was the edge of a sheet. He knew it was a sheet because he could see the texture of the material and the stitchings on the hem. He screwed up his eyes, and opened them again quickly. This time he saw the room. He saw the bed in which he was lying; he saw the grey walls and the door and the green curtains over the window. There were some roses on the table by his bed.
Then he saw the basin on the table near the roses. It was a white enamel basin, and beside it there was a small medicine glass.
This is a hospital, he thought. I am in a hospital. But he could remember nothing. He lay back on his pillow, looking at the ceiling and wondering what had happened. He was gazing at the smooth greyness of the ceiling which was so clean and gray, and then suddenly he saw a fly walking upon it. The sight of this fly, the suddenness of seeing this small black speck on a sea of gray, brushed the surface of his brain, and quickly, in that second, he remembered everything. He remembered the Spitfire and he remembered the altimeter showing twenty-one thousand feet. He remembered the pushing back of the hood with both hands, and he remembered the bailing out. He remembered his leg.
It seemed all right now. He looked down at the end of the bed, but he could not tell. He put one hand underneath the bedclothes and felt for his knees. He found one of them, but when he felt for the other, his hand touched something which was soft and covered in bandages.
Just then the door opened and a nurse came in.
"Hello," she said. "So you've waked up at last."
She was not good-looking, but she was large and clean. She was between thirty and forty and she had fair hair. More than that he did not notice.
"Where am I?"
"You're a lucky fellow. You landed in a wood near the beach. You're in Brighton. They brought you in two days ago, and now you're all fixed up. You look fine."
"I've lost a leg," he said.
"That's nothing. We'll get you another one. Now you must go to sleep. The doctor will be coming to see you in about an hour." She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.
But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut them again everything would go away. He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run forward very fast for a few inches, then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every now and then it would take off and buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling and started running and stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but only a black speck upon a sea of gray, and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the doctor came in. He was an Army doctor, a major, and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he had a cheerful face and kind eyes.
"Well, well," he said. "So you've decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?"
"I feel all right."
"That's the stuff. You'll be up and about in no time."
The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.
"By the way," he said, "some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about you. They wanted to come along and see you, but I said that they'd better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that they could come and see you a little later on. Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?" He glanced at the table with the roses. "No. Well, nurse will look after you. She'll get you anything you want." With that he waved his hand and went out, followed by the large clean nurse.
When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again. The fly was still there and as he lay watching it he heard the noise of an airplane in the distance. He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way away. I wonder what it is, he thought. Let me see if I can place it. Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone who has been bombed can tell the noise of a Junkers 88. They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but especially a Junkers 88. The engines seem to sing a duet. There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor. It is the singing of the tenor which makes the sound of a JU-88 something which one cannot mistake.
He lay listening to the noise, and he felt quite certain about what it was. But where were the sirens, and where the guns? That German pilot certainly had a nerve coming near Brighton alone in daylight.
The aircraft was always far away, and soon the noise faded away into the distance. Later on there was another. This one, too, was far away, but there was the same deep undulating bass and the high singing tenor, and there was no mistaking it. He had heard that noise every day during the battle.
He was puzzled. There was a bell on the table by the bed. He reached out his hand and rang it. He heard the noise of footsteps down the corridor, and the nurse came in.
"Nurse, what were those airplanes?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I didn't hear them. Probably fighters or bombers. I expect they were returning from France. Why, what's the matter?"
"They were JU-88's. I'm sure they were JU-88's. I know the sound of the engines. There were two of them. What were they doing over here?"
The nurse came up to the side of his bed and began to straighten out the sheets and tuck them in under the mattress.
"Gracious me, what things you imagine. You mustn't worry about a thing like that. Would you like me to get you something to read?"
"No, thank you."
She patted his pillow and brushed back the hair from his forehead with her hand.
"They never come over in daylight any longer. You know that. They were probably Lancasters or Flying Fortresses."
"Nurse."
"Yes."
"Could I have a cigarette?"
"Why certainly you can."
She went out and came back almost at once with a packet of Players and some matches. She handed one to him and when he had put it in his mouth, she struck a match and lit it.
"If you want me again," she said, "just ring the bell," and she went out.
Once toward evening he heard the noise of another aircraft. It was far away, but even so he knew that it was a single-engined machine. But he could not place it. It was going fast; he could tell that. But it wasn't a Spit, and it wasn't a Hurricane. It did not sound like an American engine either. They make more noise. He did not know what it was, and it worried him greatly. Perhaps I am very ill, he thought. Perhaps I am imagining things. Perhaps I am a little delirious. I simply do not know what to think.
That evening the nurse came in with a basin of hot water and began to wash him.
"Well," she said, "I hope you don't still think that we're being bombed."
She had taken off his pajama top and was soaping his right arm with a flannel. He did not answer.
She rinsed the flannel in the water, rubbed more soap on it, and began to wash his chest.
"You're looking fine this evening," she said. "They operated on you as soon as you came in. They did a marvelous job. You'll be all right. I've got a brother in the RAF," she added. "Flying bombers."
He said, "I went to school in Brighton."
She looked up quickly. "Well, that's fine," she said. "I expect you'll know some people in the town."
"Yes," he said, "I know quite a few."
She had finished washing his chest and arms, and now she turned back the bedclothes, so that his left leg was uncovered. She did it in such a way that his bandaged stump remained under the sheets. She undid the cord of his pajama trousers and took them off. There was no trouble because they had cut off the right trouser leg, so that it could not interfere with the bandages. She began to wash his left leg and the rest of his body. This was the first time he had had a bed bath, and he was embarrassed. She laid a towel under his leg, and she was washing his foot with the flannel. She said, "This wretched soap won't lather at all. It's the water. It's as hard as nails."
He said, "None of the soap is very good now and, of course, with hard water it's hopeless." As he said it he remembered something. He remembered the baths which he used to take at school in Brighton, in the long stone-floored bathroom which had four baths in a room. He remembered how the water was so soft that you had to take a shower afterwards to get all the soap off your body, and he remembered how the foam used to float on the surface of the water, so that you could not see your legs underneath. He remembered that sometimes they were given calcium tablets because the school doctor used to say that soft water was bad for the teeth.
"In Brighton," he said, "the water isn't . . ."
He did not finish the sentence. Something had occurred to him; something so fantastic and absurd that for a moment he felt like telling the nurse about it and having a good laugh.
She looked up. "The water isn't what?" she said.
"Nothing," he answered. "I was dreaming.
She rinsed the flannel in the basin, wiped the soap off his leg, and dried him with a towel.
"It's nice to be washed," he said. "I feel better." He was feeling his face with his hands. "I need a shave."
"We'll do that tomorrow," she said. "Perhaps you can do it yourself then."
That night he could not sleep. He lay awake thinking of the Junkers 88's and of the hardness of the water. He could think of nothing else. They were JU-88's, he said to himself. I know they were. And yet it is not possible, because they would not be flying around so low over here in broad daylight. I know that it is true, and yet I know that it is impossible. Perhaps I am ill. Perhaps I am behaving like a fool and do not know what I am doing or saying. Perhaps I am delirious. For a long time he lay awake thinking these things, and once he sat up in bed and said aloud, "I will prove that I am not crazy. I will make a little speech about something complicated and intellectual. I will talk about what to do with Germany after the war." But before he had time to begin, he was asleep.
He woke just as the first light of day was showing through the slit in the curtains over the window. The room was still dark, but he could tell that it was already beginning to get light outside. He lay looking at the grey light which was showing through the slit in the curtain, and as he lay there he remembered the day before. He remembered the Junkers 88's and the hardness of the water; he remembered the large pleasant nurse and the kind doctor, and now the small grain of doubt took root in his mind and it began to grow.
He looked around the room. The nurse had taken the roses out the night before, and there was nothing except the table with a packet of cigarettes, a box of matches and an ash tray. Otherwise, it was bare. It was no longer warm or friendly. It was not even comfortable. It was cold and empty and very quiet.
Slowly the grain of doubt grew, and with it came fear, a light, dancing fear that warned but did not frighten; the kind of fear that one gets not because one is afraid, but because one feels that there is something wrong. Quickly the doubt and the fear grew so that he became restless and angry, and when he touched his forehead with his hand, he found that it was damp with sweat. He knew then that he must do something; that he must find some way of proving to himself that he was either right or wrong, and he looked up and saw again the window and the green curtains. From where he lay, that window was right in front of him, but it was fully ten yards away. Somehow he must reach it and look out. The idea became an obsession with him, and soon he could think of nothing except the window. But what about his leg? He put his hand underneath the bedclothes and felt the thick bandaged stump which was all that was left on the right-hand side. It seemed all right. It didn't hurt. But it would not be easy.
He sat up. Then he pushed the bedclothes aside and put his left leg on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he swung his body over until he had both hands on the floor as well; and then he was out of bed, kneeling on the carpet. He looked at the stump. It was very short and thick, covered with bandages. It was beginning to hurt and he could feel it throbbing. He wanted to collapse, lie down on the carpet and do nothing, but he knew that he must go on.
With two arms and one leg, he crawled over towards the window. He would reach forward as far as he could with his arms, then he would give a little jump and slide his left leg along after them. Each time he did, it jarred his wound so that he gave a soft grunt of pain, but he continued to crawl across the floor on two hands and one knee. When he got to the window he reached up, and one at a time he placed both hands on the sill. Slowly he raised himself up until he was standing on his left leg. Then quickly he pushed aside the curtains and looked out.
He saw a small house with a gray tiled roof standing alone beside a narrow lane, and immediately behind it there was a plowed field. In front of the house there was an untidy garden, and there was a green hedge separating the garden from the lane. He was looking at the hedge when he saw the sign. It was just a piece of board nailed to the top of a short pole, and because the hedge had not been trimmed for a long time, the branches had grown out around the sign so that it seemed almost as though it had been placed in the middle of the hedge. There was something written on the board with white paint, and he pressed his head against the glass of the window, trying to read what it said. The first letter was a G, he could see that. The second was an A, and the third was an R. One after another he managed to see what the letters were. There were three words, and slowly he spelled the letters out aloud to himself as he managed to read them. G-A-R-D-E A-U C-H-I-E-N. Garde au chien. That is what it said.
He stood there balancing on one leg and holding tightly to the edges of the window sill with his hands, staring at the sign and at the whitewashed lettering of the words. For a moment he could think of nothing at all. He stood there looking at the sign, repeating the words over and over to himself, and then slowly he began to realize the full meaning of the thing. He looked up at the cottage and at the plowed field. He looked at the small orchard on the left of the cottage and he looked at the green countryside beyond. "So this is France," he said. "I am France."
Now the throbbing in his right thigh was very great. It felt as though someone was pounding the end of his stump with a hammer, and suddenly the pain became so intense that it affected his head and for a moment he thought he was going to fall. Quickly he knelt down again, crawled back to the bed and hoisted himself in. He pulled the bedclothes over himself and lay back on the pillow, exhausted. He could still think of nothing at all except the small sign by the hedge, and the plowed field and the orchard. It was the words on the sign that he could not forget.
It was some time before the nurse came in. She came carrying a basin of hot water and she said, "Good morning, how are you today?"
He said, "Good morning, nurse."
The pain was still great under the bandages, but he did not wish to tell this woman anything. He looked at her as she busied herself with getting the washing things ready. He looked at her more carefully now. Her hair was very fair. She was tall and big-boned, and her face seemed pleasant. But there was something a little uneasy about her eyes. They were never still. They never looked at anything for more than a moment and they moved too quickly from one place to another in the room. There was something about her movements also. They were too sharp and nervous to go well with the casual manner in which she spoke.
She set down the basin, took off his pajama top and began to wash him.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes."
"Good," she said. She was washing his arms and his chest.
"I believe there's someone coming down to see you from the Air Ministry after breakfast," she went on. "They want a report or something. I expect you know all about it. How you got shot down and all that. I won't let him stay long, so don't worry."
He did not answer. She finished washing him, and gave him a toothbrush and some tooth powder. He brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and spat the water out into the basin.
Later she brought him his breakfast on a tray, but he did not want to eat. He was still feeling weak and sick, and he wished only to lie still and think about what had happened. And there was a sentence running through his head. It was a sentence which Johnny, the Intelligence Officer of his squadron, always repeated to the pilots every day before they went out. He could see Johnny now, leaning against the wall of the dispersal hut with his pipe in his hand, saying, "And if they get you, don't forget, just your name, rank and number. Nothing else. For God's sake, say nothing else."
"There you are," she said as she put the tray on his lap. "I've got you an egg. Can you manage all right?"
"Yes."
She stood beside the bed. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes."
"Good. If you want another egg I might be able to get you one."
"This is all right."
"Well, just ring the bell if you want any more." And she went out.
He had just finished eating, when the nurse came in again.
She said, "Wing Commander Roberts is here. I've told him that he can only stay for a few minutes."
She beckoned with her hand and the Wing Commander came in.
"Sorry to bother you like this," he said.
He was an ordinary RAF officer, dressed in a uniform which was a little shabby, and he wore wings and a DFC. He was fairly tall and thin with plenty of black hair. His teeth, which were irregular and widely spaced, stuck out a little even when he closed his mouth. As he spoke he took a printed form and a pencil from his pocket, and he pulled up a chair and sat down.
"How are you feeling?"
There was no answer.
"Tough luck about your leg. I know how you feel. I hear you put up a fine show before they got you."
The man in the bed was lying quite still, watching the man in the chair.
The man in the chair said, "Well, let's get this stuff over. I'm afraid you'll have to answer a few questions so that I can fill in this combat report. Let me see now, first of all, what was your squadron?"
The man in the bed did not move. He looked straight at the Wing Commander and he said, "My name is Peter Williamson. My rank is Squadron Leader and my number is nine seven two four five seven."
Tuesday 28 August 2007
Cooling Drinks for Picnics
Cooling Drinks for Picnics
Need to cool drinks for a large group really fast? Here are a few instructions anyone can follow with what is generally at hand.
Generally cooling drinks for picnics by putting them in ice takes well over an hour. But there is a way to cool drinks like soda and beer in minutes, less than two minutes in fact if the proper mixture of ice, water and salt are used.
Take a container that is large enough to put in ice about ten inches deep. I like a five gallon plastic bucket for this. The container need only be as big as is needed to put some of the drinks in, they can be replaced as they cool. Add a half pound of salt for each ten pounds of ice in a five gallon bucket about fifteen pounds of ice, a pound of salt and about a gallon of water is a good mixture.
Add water so that the ice and salt to make an ice, salt and water mixture. Stir it but DO NOT STIR IT WITH YOUR HANDS or PUT YOUR HANDS IN IT. Ice water is 32 degrees but this brine mixture will hit about 12 degrees almost immediately. Immerse the cans in the mixture. They will cool very quickly and in fact if you let them in too long the beverage will actually freeze on the inside of the can.
If you take the cans out after a few minutes you can put them on ice to keep them cool and use the cold mixture to cool more cans.
Need to cool drinks for a large group really fast? Here are a few instructions anyone can follow with what is generally at hand.
Generally cooling drinks for picnics by putting them in ice takes well over an hour. But there is a way to cool drinks like soda and beer in minutes, less than two minutes in fact if the proper mixture of ice, water and salt are used.
Take a container that is large enough to put in ice about ten inches deep. I like a five gallon plastic bucket for this. The container need only be as big as is needed to put some of the drinks in, they can be replaced as they cool. Add a half pound of salt for each ten pounds of ice in a five gallon bucket about fifteen pounds of ice, a pound of salt and about a gallon of water is a good mixture.
Add water so that the ice and salt to make an ice, salt and water mixture. Stir it but DO NOT STIR IT WITH YOUR HANDS or PUT YOUR HANDS IN IT. Ice water is 32 degrees but this brine mixture will hit about 12 degrees almost immediately. Immerse the cans in the mixture. They will cool very quickly and in fact if you let them in too long the beverage will actually freeze on the inside of the can.
If you take the cans out after a few minutes you can put them on ice to keep them cool and use the cold mixture to cool more cans.
Tips and Hints
Eat cheap tuna. More expensive canned albacore "white" tuna has been found to contain as much as three times the mercury of canned "light" tuna.
Sunday 26 August 2007
Zlartinepole The Dragon
Zlartinpole was a dragon who lived in the forest near the land of Slodinbob.
Everyone in Slodinbob was afraid of Zlartinpole. They were afraid of his big green scales, of his long spiky tail, and they were especially afraid of the fire he breathed out of his two round nostrils.
The fire came out in three colors -- RED, PURPLE, and BLUE.....and it was very hot!
Now in reality, Zlartinpole only breathed fire when he got scared or sneezed, but everyone thought he did it to try and burn Slodinbob to a crisp.
As a matter of fact, everyone was so scared of Zlartinpole that one evening, a group of townspeople got together and went to see the King and Queen of Slodinbob. They wanted to demand that something be done to rid the land of the dreaded dragon.
King Mercer was a kind man, and he and his wife, Queen Melinda agreed to meet with them.
The leader of the group, a young man named Harold, spoke first. "Great King Mercer, we are afraid for our lives! That horrible dragon lurks near our homes, and threatens to burn them all down!" Priscilla, the pleasant woman who ran the food market, spoke next. "Everything we have worked our whole lives for could be destroyed in an instant if that horrible dragon continues to live here!", she said worriedly.
Everyone in the group shouted in agreement. "Yes!" they all shouted at once. "We must rid Slodinbob of the dragon!"
King Mercer spoke slowly in his deep, rumbling voice. "I understand that you are all afraid of the dragon. Queen Melinda and I shall discuss what should be done. We will invite you all back to a meeting once we make our decision."
Queen Melinda, dressed in her glistening jewels and elegant robes nodded in agreement with her husband. "We will not keep you waiting for long, because we too are worried about what damage this horrible dragon might cause." The townspeople seemed satisfied, and went on their way.
Once they left the castle, Queen Melinda turned to King Mercer and asked, "Have you seen Princess Marigold this afternoon? I have not seen her since lunchtime, and I am beginning to get rather worried." "No," said the king, "and I am very worried about her as well." Princess Marigold was the only child of King Mercer and Queen Melinda. They loved her dearly, but also worried about her constantly because she was always running off and getting lost in the forest.
This time, young Marigold was romping through the forest near Slodinbob. She ran and leapt. She frolicked and pranced, her long, amber hair swaying with every move. Princess Marigold was having so much fun she did not realize how late it was.
"Oh dear," she said to herself, "I must get back to the castle. Mother and Father must be getting very worried about me." She looked around and realized it was too dark to find her way back. Frightened, Princess Marigold put her head in her hands and started to cry.
"Pardon me" someone with a very gruff voice asked. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"
Princess Marigold looked up to find herself staring face to face with Zlartinpole the dragon, who had bent his long neck down to face her.
When Marigold realized she was looking at a dragon, she jumped and let out a loud scream! Turning to quickly run away, the Princess Marigold accidentally tripped and fell backwards, landing right smack in the fold of Zlartinpole's right wing, which gently scooped her up as she fell, carefully settling her on top of his back.
"I hope my scales are not too rough for you," Zlartinpole the Dragon apologized. "But it is much too late for you to be out all alone. Strangers could be about, you know. I'll see you home safely. No one will trouble a Princess under the care of a dragon."
Princess Marigold was still a bit afraid of this fire-breathing dragon whom everyone said was going to be a big problem for the land of Slodinbob.
"Are you the dragon that is going to burn everyone's homes down?" she asked in a very frightened little voice.
"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed a startled Zlartinpole, "What a thought!". "Absolutely not," he replied firmly. "I would never try to hurt anyone or anything."
"Then why is everyone so afraid of you?" Princess Marigold inquired curiously.
"They just don't know me very well, and one should never try to judge a book by its cover. Now then, no more questions -- we'd best get you home." With that, Zlartinpole flew into the air with Princess Marigold's arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "Wheee!", Princess Marigold squealed with delight. "This is so much fun!"
Shortly afterwards, Zlartinpole and Princess Marigold landed in front of the great castle. When the two knights guarding the castle gate saw the dragon, they quickly drew their swords. Princess Marigold was afraid that the men would try and hurt Zlartinpole. Instead, the knights dropped their weapons, and ran inside.
"I wish everyone wouldn't be so afraid of you," Princess Marigold began. "I'm going to go to my parents and tell them what a wonderful, kind dragon you are."
Zlartinpole wiped away the big sad tear drop that fell onto his protruding nose. "Thank you so much", he said sincerely. "I hope that when the King and Queen find out I helped you, that they will tell the people of Slodinbob that there is no reason to be afraid of me."
Princess Marigold waved good-bye as Zlartinpole flapped his gigantic wings and flew back to his home in the forest. As soon as he was out of sight, Princess Marigold ran to find her parents in the castle.
When she found them, they were sitting on their golden thrones looking very angry. "Young lady," her father started, his voice bellowing with anger, "just what did you think you were doing, accepting a ride from a dangerous dragon?" "He's not dangerous. He helped me, because I was lost, and....... " the princess began.
"That's enough Marigold!" Queen Melinda interrupted in a stern voice. "These courageous knights told us that the dragon was about to attack the castle! They told us that the dragon was holding you captive and they had to hurry before it did something terrible to you! They said they had to hurry to alert the other knights because they had no chance of fighting such a large and violent beast on their own!"
Princess Marigold looked very shocked. "But he wasn't holding me captive", she tried to explain. "I didn't know where I was and he....."
"Silence!" her father yelled loudly, interrupting her. "You will no longer go wandering about wherever and whenever you please. Go to your room immediately."
At that very moment one of the royal knights ran into the room. "Your Majesties," he said as he bowed to both the King and Queen, "the beast is gone. But we will find where he is hiding. Once we do, Slodinbob will no longer be terrorized."
"Go to the forest at once!" King Mercer commanded in a louder voice than usual. "Comb through every tree, every hill, every valley. Find the dragon, and bring back the beast's head!"
Princess Marigold was on her way to her room when she heard her father's command. "I must go to the forest and warn Zlartinpole, before Father's knights find him," she said to herself. She quietly sneaked out of a secret exit behind the stairway that led upstairs to her room. She ran as fast as she could, past the town hall, past the marketplace, past the schoolhouse. When trees and green surrounded Princess Marigold, she knew she had found the forest. But where was Zlartinpole?
She looked up at the tops of the tall trees, but saw nothing but leaves. Was he behind a large rock? Perhaps he was at the bank of the stream, having a sip of water.
Suddenly, she heard a loud roar and the air was filled with smoke. Turning around, she saw Zlartinpole, looking very embarrassed, as came out from behind a berry bush.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you, Princess Marigold," he said. "But I was smelling some beautiful flowers, and I'm afraid they made me sneeze."
Princess Marigold wrapped her arms as far around Zlartinpole as they would stretch. "I am so glad to see you," she said. "But I came here to warn you -- my father's knights are after you, and they want to bring back your head. My parents just wouldn't listen to me! I tried to explain . . ." Her voice became a trail of sobs.
Zlartinpole put one wing around Princess Marigold, and drew her close to his side. "It's not your fault," he said as he tried to comfort her.
Just then one of the king's men appeared out of the darkness, holding a bright torch. "Princess Marigold! Princess Marigold!" he yelled in his loudest voice. "Get away from that monstrous beast!"
"He's not...... he's not...... " the princess sobbed, before Zlartinpole gently pushed her away.
"Run home quickly Princess Marigold! It is not safe for you here," he said. Princess Marigold stole a quick, sad glance back at him, and then began running just as fast as she could back home to the castle.
King Mercer's knights slowly approached, one by one, until twenty of them surrounded Zlartinpole with their swords drawn. "You will not get away this time!" one of them growled.
"Don't try to escape!" bellowed another.
"You will no longer terrorize the land of Slodinbob!" yelled a third.
Zlartinpole saw what a difficult situation he was in, and began to get very scared. He got so scared, in fact, that all of a sudden from out of his nostrils came a loud:
"BOOM!"
and a cloud of smoke rose from where his flames hit the ground.
The knights first scattered, and then they all charged towards poor Zlartinpole!.
"CRACKLE! HISS!" went the flames as they hit the shield of one of the knights, promptly melting it into a silvery puddle.
The guards kept charging, and Zlartinpole kept breathing fire, trying his very best not to hurt anybody. This went on for quite some time, until all of a sudden, interrupting this ruckus came a loud shout of
"HALT!"
The guards instantly recognized this voice, and stopped in their tracks. There stood King Mercer, with Queen Melinda and Princess Marigold by his side. "I am so glad my prize horses got us here in time," King Mercer said, pointing towards the three golden steeds. "My darling Princess Marigold just told her mother and me exactly what happened to her today, how this dragon named Zlaten, ummm . . . Zlarted, ummm . . . "
"Zlartinpole," Princess Marigold whispered in her father's ear.
"How this dragon named Zlartinpole," the King continued, "rescued her from being lost in the woods. It was our terrible, terrible mistake to believe that this creature intends to harm Slodinbob. Men, please put your weapons away and return to the castle." The guards, as always, did exactly as the King commanded.
"As for you, Zlartinpole," began Queen Melinda, "we owe you our deepest apologies. We should have listened to Princess Marigold when she tried to explain earlier, and we should never have assumed you were so dangerous just because you are a dragon."
Zlartinpole's big green eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and the Princess Marigold gave her friend the dragon a big hug .
"Come back to the castle with us, Zlartinpole," King Mercer offered. "You can be our official guard dragon."
"Thank you so much for your generous offer, Sire," Zlartinpole said, "but I must decline. The forest is my home. It is where I feel safe and happy. I don't want to live anywhere else."
Princess Marigold looked especially disappointed. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked. "Please don't look so sad," he replied. "I promise that you will always be able to find me here."
By now, it was very late, and Princess Marigold, King Mercer, and Queen Melinda were very tired and had to go home to their castle. They all bade farewell to their new friend Zlartinpole, and promised to visit him in the forest very soon.
Zlartinpole waved goodbye to his friends then leapt into the air, flying higher than the tops of the tallest trees, and right into the clouds.
The End
Everyone in Slodinbob was afraid of Zlartinpole. They were afraid of his big green scales, of his long spiky tail, and they were especially afraid of the fire he breathed out of his two round nostrils.
The fire came out in three colors -- RED, PURPLE, and BLUE.....and it was very hot!
Now in reality, Zlartinpole only breathed fire when he got scared or sneezed, but everyone thought he did it to try and burn Slodinbob to a crisp.
As a matter of fact, everyone was so scared of Zlartinpole that one evening, a group of townspeople got together and went to see the King and Queen of Slodinbob. They wanted to demand that something be done to rid the land of the dreaded dragon.
King Mercer was a kind man, and he and his wife, Queen Melinda agreed to meet with them.
The leader of the group, a young man named Harold, spoke first. "Great King Mercer, we are afraid for our lives! That horrible dragon lurks near our homes, and threatens to burn them all down!" Priscilla, the pleasant woman who ran the food market, spoke next. "Everything we have worked our whole lives for could be destroyed in an instant if that horrible dragon continues to live here!", she said worriedly.
Everyone in the group shouted in agreement. "Yes!" they all shouted at once. "We must rid Slodinbob of the dragon!"
King Mercer spoke slowly in his deep, rumbling voice. "I understand that you are all afraid of the dragon. Queen Melinda and I shall discuss what should be done. We will invite you all back to a meeting once we make our decision."
Queen Melinda, dressed in her glistening jewels and elegant robes nodded in agreement with her husband. "We will not keep you waiting for long, because we too are worried about what damage this horrible dragon might cause." The townspeople seemed satisfied, and went on their way.
Once they left the castle, Queen Melinda turned to King Mercer and asked, "Have you seen Princess Marigold this afternoon? I have not seen her since lunchtime, and I am beginning to get rather worried." "No," said the king, "and I am very worried about her as well." Princess Marigold was the only child of King Mercer and Queen Melinda. They loved her dearly, but also worried about her constantly because she was always running off and getting lost in the forest.
This time, young Marigold was romping through the forest near Slodinbob. She ran and leapt. She frolicked and pranced, her long, amber hair swaying with every move. Princess Marigold was having so much fun she did not realize how late it was.
"Oh dear," she said to herself, "I must get back to the castle. Mother and Father must be getting very worried about me." She looked around and realized it was too dark to find her way back. Frightened, Princess Marigold put her head in her hands and started to cry.
"Pardon me" someone with a very gruff voice asked. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"
Princess Marigold looked up to find herself staring face to face with Zlartinpole the dragon, who had bent his long neck down to face her.
When Marigold realized she was looking at a dragon, she jumped and let out a loud scream! Turning to quickly run away, the Princess Marigold accidentally tripped and fell backwards, landing right smack in the fold of Zlartinpole's right wing, which gently scooped her up as she fell, carefully settling her on top of his back.
"I hope my scales are not too rough for you," Zlartinpole the Dragon apologized. "But it is much too late for you to be out all alone. Strangers could be about, you know. I'll see you home safely. No one will trouble a Princess under the care of a dragon."
Princess Marigold was still a bit afraid of this fire-breathing dragon whom everyone said was going to be a big problem for the land of Slodinbob.
"Are you the dragon that is going to burn everyone's homes down?" she asked in a very frightened little voice.
"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed a startled Zlartinpole, "What a thought!". "Absolutely not," he replied firmly. "I would never try to hurt anyone or anything."
"Then why is everyone so afraid of you?" Princess Marigold inquired curiously.
"They just don't know me very well, and one should never try to judge a book by its cover. Now then, no more questions -- we'd best get you home." With that, Zlartinpole flew into the air with Princess Marigold's arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "Wheee!", Princess Marigold squealed with delight. "This is so much fun!"
Shortly afterwards, Zlartinpole and Princess Marigold landed in front of the great castle. When the two knights guarding the castle gate saw the dragon, they quickly drew their swords. Princess Marigold was afraid that the men would try and hurt Zlartinpole. Instead, the knights dropped their weapons, and ran inside.
"I wish everyone wouldn't be so afraid of you," Princess Marigold began. "I'm going to go to my parents and tell them what a wonderful, kind dragon you are."
Zlartinpole wiped away the big sad tear drop that fell onto his protruding nose. "Thank you so much", he said sincerely. "I hope that when the King and Queen find out I helped you, that they will tell the people of Slodinbob that there is no reason to be afraid of me."
Princess Marigold waved good-bye as Zlartinpole flapped his gigantic wings and flew back to his home in the forest. As soon as he was out of sight, Princess Marigold ran to find her parents in the castle.
When she found them, they were sitting on their golden thrones looking very angry. "Young lady," her father started, his voice bellowing with anger, "just what did you think you were doing, accepting a ride from a dangerous dragon?" "He's not dangerous. He helped me, because I was lost, and....... " the princess began.
"That's enough Marigold!" Queen Melinda interrupted in a stern voice. "These courageous knights told us that the dragon was about to attack the castle! They told us that the dragon was holding you captive and they had to hurry before it did something terrible to you! They said they had to hurry to alert the other knights because they had no chance of fighting such a large and violent beast on their own!"
Princess Marigold looked very shocked. "But he wasn't holding me captive", she tried to explain. "I didn't know where I was and he....."
"Silence!" her father yelled loudly, interrupting her. "You will no longer go wandering about wherever and whenever you please. Go to your room immediately."
At that very moment one of the royal knights ran into the room. "Your Majesties," he said as he bowed to both the King and Queen, "the beast is gone. But we will find where he is hiding. Once we do, Slodinbob will no longer be terrorized."
"Go to the forest at once!" King Mercer commanded in a louder voice than usual. "Comb through every tree, every hill, every valley. Find the dragon, and bring back the beast's head!"
Princess Marigold was on her way to her room when she heard her father's command. "I must go to the forest and warn Zlartinpole, before Father's knights find him," she said to herself. She quietly sneaked out of a secret exit behind the stairway that led upstairs to her room. She ran as fast as she could, past the town hall, past the marketplace, past the schoolhouse. When trees and green surrounded Princess Marigold, she knew she had found the forest. But where was Zlartinpole?
She looked up at the tops of the tall trees, but saw nothing but leaves. Was he behind a large rock? Perhaps he was at the bank of the stream, having a sip of water.
Suddenly, she heard a loud roar and the air was filled with smoke. Turning around, she saw Zlartinpole, looking very embarrassed, as came out from behind a berry bush.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you, Princess Marigold," he said. "But I was smelling some beautiful flowers, and I'm afraid they made me sneeze."
Princess Marigold wrapped her arms as far around Zlartinpole as they would stretch. "I am so glad to see you," she said. "But I came here to warn you -- my father's knights are after you, and they want to bring back your head. My parents just wouldn't listen to me! I tried to explain . . ." Her voice became a trail of sobs.
Zlartinpole put one wing around Princess Marigold, and drew her close to his side. "It's not your fault," he said as he tried to comfort her.
Just then one of the king's men appeared out of the darkness, holding a bright torch. "Princess Marigold! Princess Marigold!" he yelled in his loudest voice. "Get away from that monstrous beast!"
"He's not...... he's not...... " the princess sobbed, before Zlartinpole gently pushed her away.
"Run home quickly Princess Marigold! It is not safe for you here," he said. Princess Marigold stole a quick, sad glance back at him, and then began running just as fast as she could back home to the castle.
King Mercer's knights slowly approached, one by one, until twenty of them surrounded Zlartinpole with their swords drawn. "You will not get away this time!" one of them growled.
"Don't try to escape!" bellowed another.
"You will no longer terrorize the land of Slodinbob!" yelled a third.
Zlartinpole saw what a difficult situation he was in, and began to get very scared. He got so scared, in fact, that all of a sudden from out of his nostrils came a loud:
"BOOM!"
and a cloud of smoke rose from where his flames hit the ground.
The knights first scattered, and then they all charged towards poor Zlartinpole!.
"CRACKLE! HISS!" went the flames as they hit the shield of one of the knights, promptly melting it into a silvery puddle.
The guards kept charging, and Zlartinpole kept breathing fire, trying his very best not to hurt anybody. This went on for quite some time, until all of a sudden, interrupting this ruckus came a loud shout of
"HALT!"
The guards instantly recognized this voice, and stopped in their tracks. There stood King Mercer, with Queen Melinda and Princess Marigold by his side. "I am so glad my prize horses got us here in time," King Mercer said, pointing towards the three golden steeds. "My darling Princess Marigold just told her mother and me exactly what happened to her today, how this dragon named Zlaten, ummm . . . Zlarted, ummm . . . "
"Zlartinpole," Princess Marigold whispered in her father's ear.
"How this dragon named Zlartinpole," the King continued, "rescued her from being lost in the woods. It was our terrible, terrible mistake to believe that this creature intends to harm Slodinbob. Men, please put your weapons away and return to the castle." The guards, as always, did exactly as the King commanded.
"As for you, Zlartinpole," began Queen Melinda, "we owe you our deepest apologies. We should have listened to Princess Marigold when she tried to explain earlier, and we should never have assumed you were so dangerous just because you are a dragon."
Zlartinpole's big green eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and the Princess Marigold gave her friend the dragon a big hug .
"Come back to the castle with us, Zlartinpole," King Mercer offered. "You can be our official guard dragon."
"Thank you so much for your generous offer, Sire," Zlartinpole said, "but I must decline. The forest is my home. It is where I feel safe and happy. I don't want to live anywhere else."
Princess Marigold looked especially disappointed. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked. "Please don't look so sad," he replied. "I promise that you will always be able to find me here."
By now, it was very late, and Princess Marigold, King Mercer, and Queen Melinda were very tired and had to go home to their castle. They all bade farewell to their new friend Zlartinpole, and promised to visit him in the forest very soon.
Zlartinpole waved goodbye to his friends then leapt into the air, flying higher than the tops of the tallest trees, and right into the clouds.
The End
Thursday 23 August 2007
The Day Thomas Went To the Garden Centre
One sunny morning in spring, Thomas’s mummy said ‘Thomas today we need to go to the garden center.’
Thomas was very excited, as he loved going to the garden centre. We all got ready and climbed into mummy’s car. Thomas climbed up into his safety seat and daddy fastened Thomas’s seatbelt. We were even taking our little white dog Penny. Penny was wearing her beautiful red collar with a matching red lead and she was the most excited of us all!
We drove out of the drive way and then joined the busy road that lead all the way to the garden centre. In the car we listened to Thomas’s favourite CD. This was a song of nursery rhymes and we listened to it wherever we were driving to. We all sang along to ‘three blind mice’ for the twenty millionth time.
When we got to the garden center we parked mummy’s car in the carpark. Mummy got Thomas out of his seat and all four of us walked into the garden center.
Mummy and Penny had to go and look for some plants, so daddy said to Thomas ‘Thomas lets go look at the puppies.’ Daddy and Thomas kissed mummy goodbye and headed of to see the little puppies. When they got to the puppy’s cage the puppies all ran over to say hello to Thomas. Daddy looked at Thomas and he could tell that although Thomas liked the puppies, he was not as interested in them as he usually was.
Daddy had a little think and said to Thomas, I know what we should do, lets go see the fish.’
Thomas smiled his big happy smile and said, ‘lets go!’ Thomas and daddy walked through the automatic door to the outside part of the garden centre. In front of them were four huge water tanks. The first had tiny little red and gold fish in it, the second had little blue and white fish in it, the third had big fish in it and the fourth had huge fish in it.
Daddy looked at Thomas and he could tell that although Thomas liked the fish, he could tell Thomas was not as interested in them as he usually was.
Daddy had a little think and said to Thomas, I know what we should do, lets go see the plastic ducks.’
Thomas smiled his big happy smile and said ‘lets go.’ Thomas and daddy walked into the big shed where the plastic garden ornaments were kept. Thomas picked up a great big pink, plastic flamingo that was missing a leg and smiled at daddy. Before daddy could do anything Thomas throw the big pink, one legged, plastic flamingo into the ornamental pond with a huge, wet splash. Thomas looked at his daddy and smiled his big happy smile.
Daddy looked a bit nervous and said, ‘Lets go!’
Thomas took his daddy’s hand and they both walk outside. Daddy said, ‘ It’s a bit naughty throwing pink plastic flamingos into the pond.’
Daddy had a little think. ‘I know said daddy, lets find the fork lift truck!’ Thomas just loved the forklift truck. Thomas and his daddy set off to find it. In the distance they could here a beep, beep, beep. Suddenly from around a corner the yellow fork lift truck appeared. The driver waved hello as he drove passed Thomas and his daddy.
Thomas and his daddy followed the forklift. The driver stopped outside a building and went inside to have a coffee. Daddy and Thomas walked up to the little yellow forklift.
‘okay, I am going to lift you up into the seat but we must be quiet as it is even more naughty than throwing pink plastic flamingos into the pond.’
Daddy lifted Thomas up into the black seat. Thomas sat there in a thrilled silence. Tom just loved the little yellow forklift truck. Then Thomas’s hand shot out and beeped the horn three times, ‘Beep Beep Beep.’
Daddy said, ‘shhh Tom, no noise!’ Thomas just smiled his cheeky grin and beep, beep beeped the horn again. Daddy quickly took Thomas down from the forklift just in time before the driver reappeared to see what all the noise was about.
Thomas and his daddy just tried to look innocent. Not too easy when you have just thrown a pink plastic flamingo into the pond and beeped the little yellow forklift’s horn three times.
‘Why don’t we go and find mummy and Penny.’ Suggested daddy. Thomas thought that this was a great idea. When they found mummy and Penny, they saw that mummy had bought a beautiful lemon tree with four bright yellow lemons on it.
Mummy, Daddy, Thomas and Penny all went back to the car. The new lemon tree was put in the seat next to Tom and strapped in with the seat belt. The whole car was filled with the aroma of the lemon tree. Thomas liked it very much
As they all set off for home mummy said ‘ Did you guys here how much noise the little yellow forklift was making, all that beeping.’
Daddy turned around to look at Tom in the back seat, Thomas and his daddy started to laugh. They knew what the noise was all about.
The End
Thomas was very excited, as he loved going to the garden centre. We all got ready and climbed into mummy’s car. Thomas climbed up into his safety seat and daddy fastened Thomas’s seatbelt. We were even taking our little white dog Penny. Penny was wearing her beautiful red collar with a matching red lead and she was the most excited of us all!
We drove out of the drive way and then joined the busy road that lead all the way to the garden centre. In the car we listened to Thomas’s favourite CD. This was a song of nursery rhymes and we listened to it wherever we were driving to. We all sang along to ‘three blind mice’ for the twenty millionth time.
When we got to the garden center we parked mummy’s car in the carpark. Mummy got Thomas out of his seat and all four of us walked into the garden center.
Mummy and Penny had to go and look for some plants, so daddy said to Thomas ‘Thomas lets go look at the puppies.’ Daddy and Thomas kissed mummy goodbye and headed of to see the little puppies. When they got to the puppy’s cage the puppies all ran over to say hello to Thomas. Daddy looked at Thomas and he could tell that although Thomas liked the puppies, he was not as interested in them as he usually was.
Daddy had a little think and said to Thomas, I know what we should do, lets go see the fish.’
Thomas smiled his big happy smile and said, ‘lets go!’ Thomas and daddy walked through the automatic door to the outside part of the garden centre. In front of them were four huge water tanks. The first had tiny little red and gold fish in it, the second had little blue and white fish in it, the third had big fish in it and the fourth had huge fish in it.
Daddy looked at Thomas and he could tell that although Thomas liked the fish, he could tell Thomas was not as interested in them as he usually was.
Daddy had a little think and said to Thomas, I know what we should do, lets go see the plastic ducks.’
Thomas smiled his big happy smile and said ‘lets go.’ Thomas and daddy walked into the big shed where the plastic garden ornaments were kept. Thomas picked up a great big pink, plastic flamingo that was missing a leg and smiled at daddy. Before daddy could do anything Thomas throw the big pink, one legged, plastic flamingo into the ornamental pond with a huge, wet splash. Thomas looked at his daddy and smiled his big happy smile.
Daddy looked a bit nervous and said, ‘Lets go!’
Thomas took his daddy’s hand and they both walk outside. Daddy said, ‘ It’s a bit naughty throwing pink plastic flamingos into the pond.’
Daddy had a little think. ‘I know said daddy, lets find the fork lift truck!’ Thomas just loved the forklift truck. Thomas and his daddy set off to find it. In the distance they could here a beep, beep, beep. Suddenly from around a corner the yellow fork lift truck appeared. The driver waved hello as he drove passed Thomas and his daddy.
Thomas and his daddy followed the forklift. The driver stopped outside a building and went inside to have a coffee. Daddy and Thomas walked up to the little yellow forklift.
‘okay, I am going to lift you up into the seat but we must be quiet as it is even more naughty than throwing pink plastic flamingos into the pond.’
Daddy lifted Thomas up into the black seat. Thomas sat there in a thrilled silence. Tom just loved the little yellow forklift truck. Then Thomas’s hand shot out and beeped the horn three times, ‘Beep Beep Beep.’
Daddy said, ‘shhh Tom, no noise!’ Thomas just smiled his cheeky grin and beep, beep beeped the horn again. Daddy quickly took Thomas down from the forklift just in time before the driver reappeared to see what all the noise was about.
Thomas and his daddy just tried to look innocent. Not too easy when you have just thrown a pink plastic flamingo into the pond and beeped the little yellow forklift’s horn three times.
‘Why don’t we go and find mummy and Penny.’ Suggested daddy. Thomas thought that this was a great idea. When they found mummy and Penny, they saw that mummy had bought a beautiful lemon tree with four bright yellow lemons on it.
Mummy, Daddy, Thomas and Penny all went back to the car. The new lemon tree was put in the seat next to Tom and strapped in with the seat belt. The whole car was filled with the aroma of the lemon tree. Thomas liked it very much
As they all set off for home mummy said ‘ Did you guys here how much noise the little yellow forklift was making, all that beeping.’
Daddy turned around to look at Tom in the back seat, Thomas and his daddy started to laugh. They knew what the noise was all about.
The End
Wednesday 22 August 2007
Thomas And The Three Little Pigs
Chapter One
Time to leave home
Thomas was a little blonde boy with cheeky smile, who had three very special little friends. His friends were in fact three little pigs.
One day Thomas was at the three little pigs house having tea. Mrs Pig had baked a wonderful chocolate cake. Thomas’s favourite cake in the whole world was chocolate cake.
Mrs Pig said, ‘Little Pigs, you are all getting too big for our little house, I think it is time you all went off and built your own homes.’
Thomas and the little pigs looked at one and other and felt very excited.
Mrs Pig continued, ‘ Make sure you build the your houses very well as you do not want the Big Bad Wolf blowing them down.’
Tom said, ‘Mrs Pig that is a fantastic idea, I will help them all to build their new houses. We will build them as strong as we can’
The three little pigs gave out a cheer and Mrs Pig gave all three piggies and Tom another slice of chocolate cake.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the first little pig.
Thomas and the first little pig set off to find somewhere to build the little pig’s house. They came to a beautiful, burbling stream and saw a man standing beside it. The man was carrying a huge bundle of straw. Butterflies skimmed the surface of the stream
Before Thomas new what was happening the first little pig had bought all the man’s straw.
The first little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house using this beautiful sweet smelling straw, and we will build it by this beautiful stream!’
‘Are you mad?’ asked Thomas, ‘ Straw is no good for building houses unless you are a little mouse.’ But it was too late, they had the straw, they had the land buy the river. So they both set to work. Well, they worked all day, they built the walls from straw, they built the roof from straw; they even built all the furniture from straw.
To finish off Thomas and the second little pig fixed a wooden front door to the straw house and painted it a beautiful shiny red.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the first little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the second little pig.
Thomas and the second little pig set off to find somewhere to build the second little pig’s house. Soon they came to a beautiful green meadow. Swallows zoomed acroos the clear sky above the meadow catching bugs for their breakfast.
In the meadow standing by the oak trees on the far side stood a man. He had a huge load of sticks for sale.
The second little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house from these beautiful brown sticks!’
Before Thomas new what was happening the first little pig had bought all the man’s sticks.
‘Are you mad?’ asked Thomas, ‘ Sticks are no good for building houses unless you are a little squirrel.’ But it was too late, they had the straw, they had the land in the meadow. So they set to work. Well they both worked all day, they built the walls from sticks, they built the roof from sticks and they made all the furniture from sticks.
To finish off, Thomas and the second little pig fixed a strong wooden front door to the straw house and painted it a beautiful bright yellow.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the second little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the third little pig.
Thomas and the third little pig set off to find somewhere to build the third little pig’s house. Soon they came to a pretty little village. In the village standing by the duck pond, stood a man. He had a large wagon filled to the top with bricks for sale.
The third little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house from these beautiful red bricks!’
‘Now that is one clever little pig?’ Said Thomas, to himself; ‘ Bricks are very good for building houses especially if you are a little pig.’
Well they had the bricks and they had the land by the duck pond. So they both set to work. Thomas and the third little pig worked all day, the built the floor from concrete, they built the walls from bricks, they built the roof from slate and they made all the furniture from some of the stout oak in the meadow. They built a huge brick fireplace, with a chimney in the corner of the little brick house.
To finish off Thomas and the third little pig fixed a strong steel front door to the brick house and painted it a beautiful deep blue. The third little pig was not taking any chance with that nasty, old wolf!
‘Quack said the ducks,’ as they swam on their duck pond.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the third little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired as it is hard work building a house from bricks but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Chapter Two
Thomas and the wolf pay a visit or three
The following Saturday, Thomas decided to visit his three friends in their new homes. He called on the first little pig in his house of straw. When Thomas knocked on the shiny red front door, he noticed how the straw walls wobbled.
The first little pig was very pleased to see his friend Thomas. He invited him in to his House. The house smelled so sweet from all the straw. The first little pig went into the kitchen and came out carrying a large tray. Thomas was please to note that the tray contained two glasses of cold milk and two large slices of carrot cake.
The two friends were happily munching on their cake when suddenly there was a loud knock, knock, knock on the front door. Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on his chinny chin chin shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Tom.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took three huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The first little pig’s house was only made from straw. The walls started to shake, the roof started to wobble and suddenly in a huge cloud of straw the house was gone. The straw went everywhere. The straw landed in the beautiful the stream, the straw blow all over the trees, just everywhere, what a terrible mess.
Well Thomas and the first little pig did not have time to worry about the mess, they just ran as fast as they could to the second little pigs house in the meadow. When they got there they knocked on the beautiful yellow door, Thomas could not help but notice how the walls crackled
Thomas and the first little pig, told the second little pig all about there horrible experience with BBW.
‘Well you do not have to worry yourselves any more. You are both safe in my house which is made from strong sticks.’ Said the second little pig. Saying this the second little pig dissapered into his kitchen. Thomas was glad to see the second little pig carrying a tray with three glasses of orange juice and three large slices of lemon cake. It was hungry work running away from the Big Bad Wolf. Just as Thomas and his two friends put the cake to their lips, there was a loud knock, knock, knock at the front door.
Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig, hello second little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on their chinny chin chins shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Thomas.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took four huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The second little pig’s house was only made from sticks. The walls started to shake, the roof started to wobble and suddenly in a huge explosion of sticks the house was gone. The sticks went everywhere. The sticks landed all over the beautiful meadow, the sticks blew all over the trees, just everywhere, what a terrible mess.
Well Thomas and the two little pigs did not have time to worry about the mess, they just ran as fast as they could to the third little pig’s house in the village. When they got there they knocked on the beautiful blue, steel door, Thomas could not help but notice how the well built every thing was-
Thomas and the two little pigs, told the third little pig all about their horrible experience with Big Bad Wolf.
‘Well you do not have to worry yourselves any more. You are both safe in my house which is made from very strong red bricks.’ Said the third little pig. Saying this the third little pig disappeared into his kitchen. Thomas was very glad to see the Third little pig return, carrying a tray with four cups of tea and four large slices of chocolate cake. It was hungry work running away from the Big Bad Wolf. Just as Thomas and his three friends put the cake to their lips, there was a loud knock, knock, knock at the front door.
Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig, hello second little pig and hello third little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on their chinny chin chins shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Thomas.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took five huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The third little pig’s house was made from bricks. The walls did not start to shake; the roof did not start to wobble. In fact nothing happened.
So the Big Bad Wolf took six huge lungs full of air and he blew and he blew and he BLEW with all his might. Nothing.
This made the three little pigs and Thomas very happy. They laughed at the Big Bad Wolf and called him names. Suddenly the Big Bad Wolf had an idea. He would climb up the walls and slide down the chimney. This is exactly what he started to do-
Thomas let out a cry. ‘Little pigs lets put a big saucepan of water on the fire that will sort out the big bad wolf once and for all. It was the work of a moment for the little pigs and Thomas to lift over a huge saucepan to fire and bring it to the boil.
The Big Bad Wolf sniggered as he climbed over the roof, he licked his lips, he was going to have a mid morning snack of the three little pigs, possibly Thomas if he could catch him and defiantly all the chocolate cake he could find.
The wolf got to the chimney and started to slide down, it was dark in the chimney and like most bullies the BBW was really a coward at heart. Down he went, ‘Something is wrong!’ he thought to himself, ‘ it really is getting hot in here.
As the wolf got to the bottom of the chimney his toes splashed into the boiling water, he let out a yell and was fired up the chimney all the way to the moon where he still lives to this very day. If you listen carefully you might here him howling with rage
The little pigs and Thomas let out a cheer and finished their tea and cake. The three little pigs bought some more bricks and extended the house. Now they all live thee very happily and Thomas visits as often as he can. They do a wonderful chocolate cake at the three little pigs house.
The End
Time to leave home
Thomas was a little blonde boy with cheeky smile, who had three very special little friends. His friends were in fact three little pigs.
One day Thomas was at the three little pigs house having tea. Mrs Pig had baked a wonderful chocolate cake. Thomas’s favourite cake in the whole world was chocolate cake.
Mrs Pig said, ‘Little Pigs, you are all getting too big for our little house, I think it is time you all went off and built your own homes.’
Thomas and the little pigs looked at one and other and felt very excited.
Mrs Pig continued, ‘ Make sure you build the your houses very well as you do not want the Big Bad Wolf blowing them down.’
Tom said, ‘Mrs Pig that is a fantastic idea, I will help them all to build their new houses. We will build them as strong as we can’
The three little pigs gave out a cheer and Mrs Pig gave all three piggies and Tom another slice of chocolate cake.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the first little pig.
Thomas and the first little pig set off to find somewhere to build the little pig’s house. They came to a beautiful, burbling stream and saw a man standing beside it. The man was carrying a huge bundle of straw. Butterflies skimmed the surface of the stream
Before Thomas new what was happening the first little pig had bought all the man’s straw.
The first little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house using this beautiful sweet smelling straw, and we will build it by this beautiful stream!’
‘Are you mad?’ asked Thomas, ‘ Straw is no good for building houses unless you are a little mouse.’ But it was too late, they had the straw, they had the land buy the river. So they both set to work. Well, they worked all day, they built the walls from straw, they built the roof from straw; they even built all the furniture from straw.
To finish off Thomas and the second little pig fixed a wooden front door to the straw house and painted it a beautiful shiny red.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the first little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the second little pig.
Thomas and the second little pig set off to find somewhere to build the second little pig’s house. Soon they came to a beautiful green meadow. Swallows zoomed acroos the clear sky above the meadow catching bugs for their breakfast.
In the meadow standing by the oak trees on the far side stood a man. He had a huge load of sticks for sale.
The second little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house from these beautiful brown sticks!’
Before Thomas new what was happening the first little pig had bought all the man’s sticks.
‘Are you mad?’ asked Thomas, ‘ Sticks are no good for building houses unless you are a little squirrel.’ But it was too late, they had the straw, they had the land in the meadow. So they set to work. Well they both worked all day, they built the walls from sticks, they built the roof from sticks and they made all the furniture from sticks.
To finish off, Thomas and the second little pig fixed a strong wooden front door to the straw house and painted it a beautiful bright yellow.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the second little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Bright and early next morning after Thomas had had a large bowl of porridge for his breakfast, he kissed his mummy goodbye and set off to the meet the third little pig.
Thomas and the third little pig set off to find somewhere to build the third little pig’s house. Soon they came to a pretty little village. In the village standing by the duck pond, stood a man. He had a large wagon filled to the top with bricks for sale.
The third little pig said, ‘Thomas, lets build my house from these beautiful red bricks!’
‘Now that is one clever little pig?’ Said Thomas, to himself; ‘ Bricks are very good for building houses especially if you are a little pig.’
Well they had the bricks and they had the land by the duck pond. So they both set to work. Thomas and the third little pig worked all day, the built the floor from concrete, they built the walls from bricks, they built the roof from slate and they made all the furniture from some of the stout oak in the meadow. They built a huge brick fireplace, with a chimney in the corner of the little brick house.
To finish off Thomas and the third little pig fixed a strong steel front door to the brick house and painted it a beautiful deep blue. The third little pig was not taking any chance with that nasty, old wolf!
‘Quack said the ducks,’ as they swam on their duck pond.
‘Thank you, Thomas.’ Said the third little pig. Thomas set off for home he was very tired as it is hard work building a house from bricks but he had enjoyed helping his friend.
Chapter Two
Thomas and the wolf pay a visit or three
The following Saturday, Thomas decided to visit his three friends in their new homes. He called on the first little pig in his house of straw. When Thomas knocked on the shiny red front door, he noticed how the straw walls wobbled.
The first little pig was very pleased to see his friend Thomas. He invited him in to his House. The house smelled so sweet from all the straw. The first little pig went into the kitchen and came out carrying a large tray. Thomas was please to note that the tray contained two glasses of cold milk and two large slices of carrot cake.
The two friends were happily munching on their cake when suddenly there was a loud knock, knock, knock on the front door. Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on his chinny chin chin shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Tom.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took three huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The first little pig’s house was only made from straw. The walls started to shake, the roof started to wobble and suddenly in a huge cloud of straw the house was gone. The straw went everywhere. The straw landed in the beautiful the stream, the straw blow all over the trees, just everywhere, what a terrible mess.
Well Thomas and the first little pig did not have time to worry about the mess, they just ran as fast as they could to the second little pigs house in the meadow. When they got there they knocked on the beautiful yellow door, Thomas could not help but notice how the walls crackled
Thomas and the first little pig, told the second little pig all about there horrible experience with BBW.
‘Well you do not have to worry yourselves any more. You are both safe in my house which is made from strong sticks.’ Said the second little pig. Saying this the second little pig dissapered into his kitchen. Thomas was glad to see the second little pig carrying a tray with three glasses of orange juice and three large slices of lemon cake. It was hungry work running away from the Big Bad Wolf. Just as Thomas and his two friends put the cake to their lips, there was a loud knock, knock, knock at the front door.
Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig, hello second little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on their chinny chin chins shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Thomas.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took four huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The second little pig’s house was only made from sticks. The walls started to shake, the roof started to wobble and suddenly in a huge explosion of sticks the house was gone. The sticks went everywhere. The sticks landed all over the beautiful meadow, the sticks blew all over the trees, just everywhere, what a terrible mess.
Well Thomas and the two little pigs did not have time to worry about the mess, they just ran as fast as they could to the third little pig’s house in the village. When they got there they knocked on the beautiful blue, steel door, Thomas could not help but notice how the well built every thing was-
Thomas and the two little pigs, told the third little pig all about their horrible experience with Big Bad Wolf.
‘Well you do not have to worry yourselves any more. You are both safe in my house which is made from very strong red bricks.’ Said the third little pig. Saying this the third little pig disappeared into his kitchen. Thomas was very glad to see the Third little pig return, carrying a tray with four cups of tea and four large slices of chocolate cake. It was hungry work running away from the Big Bad Wolf. Just as Thomas and his three friends put the cake to their lips, there was a loud knock, knock, knock at the front door.
Thomas put down his cake and looked out the window. It was the big bad wolf!
‘Hello Thomas, hello first little pig, hello second little pig and hello third little pig said the Big Bad wolf, ‘let me in!’
Not by the hair on their chinny chin chins shall we let you in Mr Wolf,’ shouted Thomas.
‘Really, that is very unfortunate as I will now have to huff and puff and BLOW your house in.’ Replied the wolf licking his lips.
As the big bad wolf said this he took five huge lungs full of air and then blew and blew with all his might.
The third little pig’s house was made from bricks. The walls did not start to shake; the roof did not start to wobble. In fact nothing happened.
So the Big Bad Wolf took six huge lungs full of air and he blew and he blew and he BLEW with all his might. Nothing.
This made the three little pigs and Thomas very happy. They laughed at the Big Bad Wolf and called him names. Suddenly the Big Bad Wolf had an idea. He would climb up the walls and slide down the chimney. This is exactly what he started to do-
Thomas let out a cry. ‘Little pigs lets put a big saucepan of water on the fire that will sort out the big bad wolf once and for all. It was the work of a moment for the little pigs and Thomas to lift over a huge saucepan to fire and bring it to the boil.
The Big Bad Wolf sniggered as he climbed over the roof, he licked his lips, he was going to have a mid morning snack of the three little pigs, possibly Thomas if he could catch him and defiantly all the chocolate cake he could find.
The wolf got to the chimney and started to slide down, it was dark in the chimney and like most bullies the BBW was really a coward at heart. Down he went, ‘Something is wrong!’ he thought to himself, ‘ it really is getting hot in here.
As the wolf got to the bottom of the chimney his toes splashed into the boiling water, he let out a yell and was fired up the chimney all the way to the moon where he still lives to this very day. If you listen carefully you might here him howling with rage
The little pigs and Thomas let out a cheer and finished their tea and cake. The three little pigs bought some more bricks and extended the house. Now they all live thee very happily and Thomas visits as often as he can. They do a wonderful chocolate cake at the three little pigs house.
The End
Monday 20 August 2007
LAMB ON THE SPIT - ARNI STI SOUVLA
LAMB ON THE SPIT - ARNI STI SOUVLA
Lamb on the spit (Arni Sti Souvla) is the traditional Greek way of serving lamb at Easter - Pascha. Usually this is the only time of year in Greece that families will prepare lamb this way, (you can find find it all year through at tavernas), however, this recipe is also ideal for preparing great tasting lamb for a large party at any time of year.
There is always much anticipation and planning of this Easter meal. After the 40 days of lent when meat is one of the main foods that people abstain from (and in Greece this is still followed by a large percentage of the population), the lamb will be the first meat they have and the thought of tucking in to such tasty meat after a long abstinance inspires an eagerness to participate and contribute in the preparation.
In Greece, Easter Sunday is a very social occasion and there will always be large gatherings for the lamb, people from the neighbourhood, friends, family and all will be invited, it is always a big affair, and people will be turning up slowly through the morning, bringing plates of food, boxes of sweets from the Zacharoplasteion or bottles of their favourite wine. Everyone will take turns at turning the spit, or helping out with other preparations, and long tables are prepared under the shady trees for the company and children to all sit down together to wine, dine and enjoy the company. So great is this day, most people will linger on till early evening, not wanting the wonderful day to end.
Whole lambs will have been ordered in plenty of time from their favourite butchers and on Easter saturday the lambs will be picked up from the butchers and taken home and prepared ready for an early start on the sunday.
The instructions given here are for a whole lamb. You use a rotiserie, either motorised or hand turned.
You will need 1 whole lamb, skinned and gutted. In Greece, the lamb will come with the head on, which many people consider a delicacy. Outside of Greece, I don't know how easy it is to get it that way. Ask your butcher to prepare the whole lamb for you as instructed. (As not a lot of butchers get orders for whole lamb, you will have to be specific, especially to leave it whole, not cut up into portions!)
Make sure the lamb is cleaned inside and out, if not, clean it.
To season the lamb, first in a bowl put a good quantity of cooking salt, ground black pepper and oregano (Greek rigani). Mix together.
In another bowl, pour a good amount of virgin olive oil.
Prepare a large work surface and place the lamb on it.
Put your hands in the olive oil and then rub the oil all over the meat, inside and out.
Next, using your hands, take a handful of seasoning and rub it all over and into the meat, on the skin on the outside, around the legs and all over the inside of the animal so it is coated with the salt, pepper, oregano mixture.
By wiping it with oil first, it helps the seasoning to stick to the animal.
Take the skewer/spear of the rotisserie and insert it into the animal, first through the backside of the lamb, through the body and out through the head, coming out through the mouth. If you do not have the head, you will need to secure the opening of the neck area to the skewer, by tying it on. One of the purposes of the head is to secure the upper body in place.
Take the back 2 legs and pull them back and tie them on to the skewer behind the tail. Take the front 2 legs, pull them forward and secure them onto the skewer in front of the head. This is so that as the meat cooks the legs will not fall off and it keeps the whole body tied together. Don't forget to use wire or something that wont burn.
Place a thin long piece of wood along the spine of the body. Take some wire and pierce it through the back of the carcass, next to the spine, around the skewer, and out the back in line with the other wire, on the other side of the spine. Tie the two ends together over the wood, which creates a loop, or circle. Do this a few times to support the spine and help hold it all together.Now wrap the entire animal in greaseproof paper, and secure well with either wire or string that won't burn.
Prepare the cooking area.
You will need to dig out of the ground a hole about 400 - 500 mm deep, almost 1 metre wide and a length of at least 2 animal heads longer than the animal. You can use some wood to start the fire and then have ready a good quantity of charcoal usually used for barbecues to add to the fire throughout the cooking stage.
It is best to prepare all this the day before as you will need to start early on Easter sunday to get the lamb cooked by lunchtime.
Sunday morning
Prepare and start the fire.At the start, when the fire is very hot, place the lamb on the stands and adjust to be quite high off the heat. At this stage you turn the meat slowly and let the heat work its way through.
As the fire goes down to its normal temperature, you adjust the rotisserie down as needed. As it cooks through with time, turn it quicker, when you hear it sizzling you need to turn it enough so it doesnt burn in one spot and the juices continuously stay within the wrapping and moisten the meat.
It is ideal for cooking lamb, if you can move the charcoal, in the hole, to either side of the animal, achieving more heat radiating from the sides instead of directly underneath the animal. This will help to distribute the heat to more parts of the animal at any one time.
You will need to keep the greaseproof paper on for about 3 1/2 hours. Then you can remove the paper, drop the skewer a little more and cook for about 1 more hour or until ready, turning quickly, almost doubling the speed of rotation.
When ready, some people will take a large platter, hold it under the roast lamb and cut parts of the lamb off whilst it is still on the spit, letting it drop onto the platter.Alternatively, remove from the heat, cut apart and serve immediately.
Serve the lamb with tzatziki, greek salad, fried zucchini, steamed greens and plenty of fresh crusty bread. Free flowing red wine, Greek style!
Along with the lamb on the spit, it is traditional in Greece to cook Kokoretsi in the same way, on a spit over the coals. This is served a little ahead of the lamb, as a starter, along with other appetizers.
Lamb on the spit (Arni Sti Souvla) is the traditional Greek way of serving lamb at Easter - Pascha. Usually this is the only time of year in Greece that families will prepare lamb this way, (you can find find it all year through at tavernas), however, this recipe is also ideal for preparing great tasting lamb for a large party at any time of year.
There is always much anticipation and planning of this Easter meal. After the 40 days of lent when meat is one of the main foods that people abstain from (and in Greece this is still followed by a large percentage of the population), the lamb will be the first meat they have and the thought of tucking in to such tasty meat after a long abstinance inspires an eagerness to participate and contribute in the preparation.
In Greece, Easter Sunday is a very social occasion and there will always be large gatherings for the lamb, people from the neighbourhood, friends, family and all will be invited, it is always a big affair, and people will be turning up slowly through the morning, bringing plates of food, boxes of sweets from the Zacharoplasteion or bottles of their favourite wine. Everyone will take turns at turning the spit, or helping out with other preparations, and long tables are prepared under the shady trees for the company and children to all sit down together to wine, dine and enjoy the company. So great is this day, most people will linger on till early evening, not wanting the wonderful day to end.
Whole lambs will have been ordered in plenty of time from their favourite butchers and on Easter saturday the lambs will be picked up from the butchers and taken home and prepared ready for an early start on the sunday.
The instructions given here are for a whole lamb. You use a rotiserie, either motorised or hand turned.
You will need 1 whole lamb, skinned and gutted. In Greece, the lamb will come with the head on, which many people consider a delicacy. Outside of Greece, I don't know how easy it is to get it that way. Ask your butcher to prepare the whole lamb for you as instructed. (As not a lot of butchers get orders for whole lamb, you will have to be specific, especially to leave it whole, not cut up into portions!)
Make sure the lamb is cleaned inside and out, if not, clean it.
To season the lamb, first in a bowl put a good quantity of cooking salt, ground black pepper and oregano (Greek rigani). Mix together.
In another bowl, pour a good amount of virgin olive oil.
Prepare a large work surface and place the lamb on it.
Put your hands in the olive oil and then rub the oil all over the meat, inside and out.
Next, using your hands, take a handful of seasoning and rub it all over and into the meat, on the skin on the outside, around the legs and all over the inside of the animal so it is coated with the salt, pepper, oregano mixture.
By wiping it with oil first, it helps the seasoning to stick to the animal.
Take the skewer/spear of the rotisserie and insert it into the animal, first through the backside of the lamb, through the body and out through the head, coming out through the mouth. If you do not have the head, you will need to secure the opening of the neck area to the skewer, by tying it on. One of the purposes of the head is to secure the upper body in place.
Take the back 2 legs and pull them back and tie them on to the skewer behind the tail. Take the front 2 legs, pull them forward and secure them onto the skewer in front of the head. This is so that as the meat cooks the legs will not fall off and it keeps the whole body tied together. Don't forget to use wire or something that wont burn.
Place a thin long piece of wood along the spine of the body. Take some wire and pierce it through the back of the carcass, next to the spine, around the skewer, and out the back in line with the other wire, on the other side of the spine. Tie the two ends together over the wood, which creates a loop, or circle. Do this a few times to support the spine and help hold it all together.Now wrap the entire animal in greaseproof paper, and secure well with either wire or string that won't burn.
Prepare the cooking area.
You will need to dig out of the ground a hole about 400 - 500 mm deep, almost 1 metre wide and a length of at least 2 animal heads longer than the animal. You can use some wood to start the fire and then have ready a good quantity of charcoal usually used for barbecues to add to the fire throughout the cooking stage.
It is best to prepare all this the day before as you will need to start early on Easter sunday to get the lamb cooked by lunchtime.
Sunday morning
Prepare and start the fire.At the start, when the fire is very hot, place the lamb on the stands and adjust to be quite high off the heat. At this stage you turn the meat slowly and let the heat work its way through.
As the fire goes down to its normal temperature, you adjust the rotisserie down as needed. As it cooks through with time, turn it quicker, when you hear it sizzling you need to turn it enough so it doesnt burn in one spot and the juices continuously stay within the wrapping and moisten the meat.
It is ideal for cooking lamb, if you can move the charcoal, in the hole, to either side of the animal, achieving more heat radiating from the sides instead of directly underneath the animal. This will help to distribute the heat to more parts of the animal at any one time.
You will need to keep the greaseproof paper on for about 3 1/2 hours. Then you can remove the paper, drop the skewer a little more and cook for about 1 more hour or until ready, turning quickly, almost doubling the speed of rotation.
When ready, some people will take a large platter, hold it under the roast lamb and cut parts of the lamb off whilst it is still on the spit, letting it drop onto the platter.Alternatively, remove from the heat, cut apart and serve immediately.
Serve the lamb with tzatziki, greek salad, fried zucchini, steamed greens and plenty of fresh crusty bread. Free flowing red wine, Greek style!
Along with the lamb on the spit, it is traditional in Greece to cook Kokoretsi in the same way, on a spit over the coals. This is served a little ahead of the lamb, as a starter, along with other appetizers.
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