day.
It was a beautiful morning and the children had managed to rub along with each other fairly well except for Cyril, who was still sulking. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was sulking, but no one had given him any real reason to leave off so he just carried on. This is the problem with sulking, I find. The difficulty is never in starting it but in stopping it, because I suddenly feel a bit daft, which makes me feel cross, which starts me off wanting to sulk all over again.
Mrs Green had made a big picnic as promised and had invited Mrs Docherty and Mr Spolding who was still carrying his pamphlette. There were sandwiches (bloater paste and egg-and-cress because bloater paste was cheap and they got eggs free from the chickens) and apples and one large bottle of ginger beer, which Vincent was so excited about that he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
The party set out in glorious sun and found a perfect spot – good slopes for rolling down, a nice flat bit for the blanket and some pasture for the goat, whom they’d brought along to eat any leftovers. Everyone had made an effort. Mrs Docherty had a felt flower in her hat, Mr Spolding had polished his buttons and tucked in his string vest, Mrs Green was wearing her best Sunday dress and Nanny McPhee was sporting a very impressive row of medals on her chest about which the children were very curious. Everyone but Cyril was in a good mood, and Nanny McPhee hadn’t even objected when the children had, rather timidly, asked if they might invite Mr Edelweiss. They were also curious about Mr Edelweiss and Nanny McPhee, but they didn’t speak jackdaw and Nanny McPhee simply wasn’t the sort of person you asked intimate questions. She just wasn’t.
But after everyone (except Cyril) had had a game of cricket and done lots of cartwheels and had a sandwich and an apple, Mr Edelweiss came quite close to Megsie and accepted a crumb out of her hand.
Nanny McPhee tutted and said, ‘Get away with you, Mr Edelweiss, you greedy bird.’
Megsie decided to risk it.
‘Why do you call him Mr Edelweiss, Nanny McPhee?’
Nanny McPhee looked at the children, who were sitting in a sort of circle before her (except Cyril, who was a metre to the left). ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the edelweiss, as you know, is a small white flower and he is a large black bird!’
I don’t know whether Nanny McPhee thought this was a good joke but the children certainly didn’t so they just kept on staring at her politely as if there was going to be more.
Nanny McPhee sniffed.‘It was funny at the time,’ she said apologetically. At that moment Mr Edelweiss let out a very loud burp which all the children (except Cyril) thought was funny.
‘Don’t be so disgusting,’ said Nanny McPhee sternly.
‘What’s he done to make you so cross with him?’ asked Norman.
Everyone sat up and paid special attention now. Mr Edelweiss burped again but tried to cover it with a cough.
‘He eats inappropriate substances. Such as window putty.’
Here, Mr Edelweiss uttered a single guilty and slightly burpy squawk and took a step away from the group.
‘Such as . . .’ continued Nanny McPhee, fixing Mr Edelweiss with one of her beadiest looks, ‘such as all the window putty off every single one of my window panes, which all fell out when the bishop came to tea!’
‘That’s really bad,’ muttered Megsie.
Everyone looked at Mr Edelweiss now. He hopped off yet further, squawking and burping in a depressed and almost whiny way.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Celia.
‘You really don’t want to know,’ said Nanny McPhee, sighing heavily.
Anxious to change a subject so clearly painful to the parties involved, Celia decided to pay Nanny McPhee a compliment.
‘You are looking well today, I must say, Nanny McPhee,’ she said.
‘Thank you, dearie,’ said Nanny McPhee with a little smile. The children noticed that she really was looking better – they couldn’t quite say how, but she certainly wasn’t
It was a beautiful morning and the children had managed to rub along with each other fairly well except for Cyril, who was still sulking. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was sulking, but no one had given him any real reason to leave off so he just carried on. This is the problem with sulking, I find. The difficulty is never in starting it but in stopping it, because I suddenly feel a bit daft, which makes me feel cross, which starts me off wanting to sulk all over again.
Mrs Green had made a big picnic as promised and had invited Mrs Docherty and Mr Spolding who was still carrying his pamphlette. There were sandwiches (bloater paste and egg-and-cress because bloater paste was cheap and they got eggs free from the chickens) and apples and one large bottle of ginger beer, which Vincent was so excited about that he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
The party set out in glorious sun and found a perfect spot – good slopes for rolling down, a nice flat bit for the blanket and some pasture for the goat, whom they’d brought along to eat any leftovers. Everyone had made an effort. Mrs Docherty had a felt flower in her hat, Mr Spolding had polished his buttons and tucked in his string vest, Mrs Green was wearing her best Sunday dress and Nanny McPhee was sporting a very impressive row of medals on her chest about which the children were very curious. Everyone but Cyril was in a good mood, and Nanny McPhee hadn’t even objected when the children had, rather timidly, asked if they might invite Mr Edelweiss. They were also curious about Mr Edelweiss and Nanny McPhee, but they didn’t speak jackdaw and Nanny McPhee simply wasn’t the sort of person you asked intimate questions. She just wasn’t.
But after everyone (except Cyril) had had a game of cricket and done lots of cartwheels and had a sandwich and an apple, Mr Edelweiss came quite close to Megsie and accepted a crumb out of her hand.
Nanny McPhee tutted and said, ‘Get away with you, Mr Edelweiss, you greedy bird.’
Megsie decided to risk it.
‘Why do you call him Mr Edelweiss, Nanny McPhee?’
Nanny McPhee looked at the children, who were sitting in a sort of circle before her (except Cyril, who was a metre to the left). ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the edelweiss, as you know, is a small white flower and he is a large black bird!’
I don’t know whether Nanny McPhee thought this was a good joke but the children certainly didn’t so they just kept on staring at her politely as if there was going to be more.
Nanny McPhee sniffed.‘It was funny at the time,’ she said apologetically. At that moment Mr Edelweiss let out a very loud burp which all the children (except Cyril) thought was funny.
‘Don’t be so disgusting,’ said Nanny McPhee sternly.
‘What’s he done to make you so cross with him?’ asked Norman.
Everyone sat up and paid special attention now. Mr Edelweiss burped again but tried to cover it with a cough.
‘He eats inappropriate substances. Such as window putty.’
Here, Mr Edelweiss uttered a single guilty and slightly burpy squawk and took a step away from the group.
‘Such as . . .’ continued Nanny McPhee, fixing Mr Edelweiss with one of her beadiest looks, ‘such as all the window putty off every single one of my window panes, which all fell out when the bishop came to tea!’
‘That’s really bad,’ muttered Megsie.
Everyone looked at Mr Edelweiss now. He hopped off yet further, squawking and burping in a depressed and almost whiny way.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Celia.
‘You really don’t want to know,’ said Nanny McPhee, sighing heavily.
Anxious to change a subject so clearly painful to the parties involved, Celia decided to pay Nanny McPhee a compliment.
‘You are looking well today, I must say, Nanny McPhee,’ she said.
‘Thank you, dearie,’ said Nanny McPhee with a little smile. The children noticed that she really was looking better – they couldn’t quite say how, but she certainly wasn’t
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