fortnight.
‘Don’t you just love Easter?’ beamed Nanny Piggins. ‘As far as holidays go it’s got everything going for it: fresh flowers, ostentatious hats and, of course, chocolate.’ Nanny Piggins smiled an even bigger smile before skipping happily towards the kitchen.
‘Yes, Easter,’ said Derrick.
‘Lovely,’ said Samantha.
‘Couldn’t be nicer,’ said Michael.
‘Always a favourite,’ said Boris. Once the door swung shut the children huddled around Boris to talk tactics.
‘Right, what are we going to do?’ asked Boris.
‘We tried locking her in the cellar last year and that didn’t work,’ said Michael.
‘We should have seen it coming,’ said Samantha, shaking her head. ‘We all know how good she is at tunnelling.’
‘We could lock her in the attic,’ suggested Derrick.
‘She’s a flying pig!’ exclaimed Boris. ‘She isn’t going to let a little thing like a double brick wall and an eight-metre drop keep her from the biggest chocolate-eating day of the year.’
‘What if we locked her in a safe first?’ suggested Samantha, ‘then locked the safe in the attic?’
‘That’s no good,’ said Boris. ‘My sister can get out of a safe faster than you can get out of a pair of leather trousers.’
‘It takes quite a long time to get out of leather trousers,’ said Derrick. (He knew this because he’d had an English teacher who made him play an Austrian goat herder wearing lederhosen in the school pantomime.)
‘My point exactly,’ said Boris.
‘We can’t just let her run loose like she did last year,’ said Samantha. ‘She scared children.’
‘She scared adults,’ added Derrick.
‘She made the Police Sergeant cry,’ added Boris.
‘And she ate so much chocolate she was in a sugar-induced coma for three days,’ added Michael.
‘Why don’t we try reasoning with her?’ suggested Samantha.
‘Ha!’ scoffed Boris. (Being Russian he was very good at making these sort of guttural noises.) ‘She would never listen to reasoned arguments when she could be eating a chocolate egg.’
The children had to nod sadly at the truth of this.
‘If only there was some way we could show Nanny Piggins the effect she has on other people when she rampages through the neighbourhood, wildly gobbling chocolate,’ said Michael.
‘I’ve got it!’ exclaimed Derrick.
‘Got what?’ asked Boris. ‘Not lice I hope! It’s all right for you humans, you’ve only got hair on your heads. But when you’re a bear with lice, scratching is a fulltime job.’
‘No,’ said Derrick patiently. ‘I’ve got an idea of how we can help Nanny Piggins.’
‘Does it involve a blowgun and elephant tranquillisers?’ asked Michael.
‘No, although perhaps we should have those on stand-by in case my plan doesn’t work,’ said Derrick.
‘What’s your idea?’ asked Samantha.
‘Well,’ said Derrick. ‘We’ve been reading Charles Dickens at school.’
‘You poor boy,’ sympathised Boris, wrapping Derrick in a big bear hug. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier? Dickens writes such horribly thick books and with such difficult big words, no wonder you have been looking wan lately.’
‘No, what I mean is, we’ve been reading A Christmas Carol ,’ said Derrick through a mouthful of Boris’ fur. ‘The story of Scrooge.’
‘Oh, that’s not such a bad book,’ said Boris, letting Derrick go. ‘It’s much shorter than the others and it’s got ghosts in it so it’s very exciting.’
‘That’s right,’ said Derrick. ‘And the ghosts come to Scrooge in the night and show him how awful his behaviour is at Christmas.’
‘So we could do the same thing for Nanny Piggins,’ said Michael, catching on. ‘We could use ghosts to show Nanny Piggins what her Easter behaviour is like.’
‘But where are we going to find three ghosts?’ asked Boris. ‘I only know one and he isn’t very agreeable; all he ever says is “boo” or “whaaaaaggggggerrhhhh”.’
‘We’ll be
‘Don’t you just love Easter?’ beamed Nanny Piggins. ‘As far as holidays go it’s got everything going for it: fresh flowers, ostentatious hats and, of course, chocolate.’ Nanny Piggins smiled an even bigger smile before skipping happily towards the kitchen.
‘Yes, Easter,’ said Derrick.
‘Lovely,’ said Samantha.
‘Couldn’t be nicer,’ said Michael.
‘Always a favourite,’ said Boris. Once the door swung shut the children huddled around Boris to talk tactics.
‘Right, what are we going to do?’ asked Boris.
‘We tried locking her in the cellar last year and that didn’t work,’ said Michael.
‘We should have seen it coming,’ said Samantha, shaking her head. ‘We all know how good she is at tunnelling.’
‘We could lock her in the attic,’ suggested Derrick.
‘She’s a flying pig!’ exclaimed Boris. ‘She isn’t going to let a little thing like a double brick wall and an eight-metre drop keep her from the biggest chocolate-eating day of the year.’
‘What if we locked her in a safe first?’ suggested Samantha, ‘then locked the safe in the attic?’
‘That’s no good,’ said Boris. ‘My sister can get out of a safe faster than you can get out of a pair of leather trousers.’
‘It takes quite a long time to get out of leather trousers,’ said Derrick. (He knew this because he’d had an English teacher who made him play an Austrian goat herder wearing lederhosen in the school pantomime.)
‘My point exactly,’ said Boris.
‘We can’t just let her run loose like she did last year,’ said Samantha. ‘She scared children.’
‘She scared adults,’ added Derrick.
‘She made the Police Sergeant cry,’ added Boris.
‘And she ate so much chocolate she was in a sugar-induced coma for three days,’ added Michael.
‘Why don’t we try reasoning with her?’ suggested Samantha.
‘Ha!’ scoffed Boris. (Being Russian he was very good at making these sort of guttural noises.) ‘She would never listen to reasoned arguments when she could be eating a chocolate egg.’
The children had to nod sadly at the truth of this.
‘If only there was some way we could show Nanny Piggins the effect she has on other people when she rampages through the neighbourhood, wildly gobbling chocolate,’ said Michael.
‘I’ve got it!’ exclaimed Derrick.
‘Got what?’ asked Boris. ‘Not lice I hope! It’s all right for you humans, you’ve only got hair on your heads. But when you’re a bear with lice, scratching is a fulltime job.’
‘No,’ said Derrick patiently. ‘I’ve got an idea of how we can help Nanny Piggins.’
‘Does it involve a blowgun and elephant tranquillisers?’ asked Michael.
‘No, although perhaps we should have those on stand-by in case my plan doesn’t work,’ said Derrick.
‘What’s your idea?’ asked Samantha.
‘Well,’ said Derrick. ‘We’ve been reading Charles Dickens at school.’
‘You poor boy,’ sympathised Boris, wrapping Derrick in a big bear hug. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier? Dickens writes such horribly thick books and with such difficult big words, no wonder you have been looking wan lately.’
‘No, what I mean is, we’ve been reading A Christmas Carol ,’ said Derrick through a mouthful of Boris’ fur. ‘The story of Scrooge.’
‘Oh, that’s not such a bad book,’ said Boris, letting Derrick go. ‘It’s much shorter than the others and it’s got ghosts in it so it’s very exciting.’
‘That’s right,’ said Derrick. ‘And the ghosts come to Scrooge in the night and show him how awful his behaviour is at Christmas.’
‘So we could do the same thing for Nanny Piggins,’ said Michael, catching on. ‘We could use ghosts to show Nanny Piggins what her Easter behaviour is like.’
‘But where are we going to find three ghosts?’ asked Boris. ‘I only know one and he isn’t very agreeable; all he ever says is “boo” or “whaaaaaggggggerrhhhh”.’
‘We’ll be
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