reading under the table.)
‘I am the Ghost of Easter Past!’ announced Samantha grandly.
‘Really?’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Because you are the spitting image of the little girl I look after. Have you met her? Her name is Samantha.’
Samantha decided it was best to ignore her nanny’s insightful comment. ‘I am here to show you the Easters that have been!’ she declared. ‘Come with me!’
Nanny Piggins scowled.
Samantha realised what her nanny was thinking and corrected herself. ‘ Please , come with me’.
‘All right then,’ said Nanny Piggins, smiling and jumping out of bed. ‘But it will have to be quick.I need my Easter sleep. I’ve got a big day of eating tomorrow.’
Samantha led Nanny Piggins downstairs. (She had to get off the skateboard when she got to the staircase because she did not want to break her neck or tear Mrs Simpson’s wedding dress.) Then she took her into the living room, where the untuned television had been switched on. The black and white pixelated screen hummed and crackled.
‘Oh goody,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Are we going to watch TV? Because I haven’t had a chance to watch the episode of The Young and the Irritable that I taped earlier today. I’m dying to find out if Bethany’s eye-patch surgery was successful.’
‘No, we are going to watch home movies of your Easters past,’ intoned Samantha, with as much gravitas as she could muster, ‘so you can see what you have done.’
A video crackled onto the screen. (Michael was operating the remote from behind the sofa.) The video showed Nanny Piggins a year earlier, looking fabulous, but not behaving in the most dignified way.
‘More more MORE,’ bellowed the on-screen Nanny Piggins as she ran around a stranger’s backyard, grabbing chocolate and chomping it up.
‘Wow,’ marvelled Nanny Piggins. ‘I think my athleticism when I’m hunting Easter eggs rivals even my athleticism when I am blasted out of a cannon.’
‘Keep watching,’ instructed Samantha sternly.
On the video Nanny Piggins was eating more and more and more chocolate. It was becoming smeared all over her face, hair and Easter bonnet.
‘Oh dear,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Milk chocolate goes with almost everything, but it does not look particularly flattering with a floral dress.’
The camera panned across to show two small children crying.
‘What’s wrong with those children?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Why are they crying?’
‘You ate their Easter eggs,’ explained Samantha, still in her ‘Ghost of Easter Past’ voice.
‘ Their Easter eggs?’ questioned Nanny Piggins.
‘They were hidden in their garden,’ added Samantha.
‘Then why didn’t they find them and eat them?’ asked Nanny Piggins, genuinely puzzled.
‘Because children aren’t allowed to get up at three o’clock in the morning and go running around in the dark,’ explained Samantha.
‘They’re not?’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘Ialways let Derrick, Samantha and Michael do that if they want to.’
‘Most parents make their children wait, at least until daylight, before they start their Easter egg hunt,’ said Samantha.
‘Really?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Those poor children. I just assumed that all those eggs had been abandoned by a series of people who had suddenly and unexpectedly been diagnosed with diabetes.’
‘Now that you know what you have done,’ said Samantha, sounding as authoritative and dramatic as she could, ‘you may return to bed.’
‘Since we’re up, how about we watch The Young and the Irritable ?’ suggested Nanny Piggins.
‘No, you must return to bed,’ said Samantha firmly.
Twenty minutes later Nanny Piggins was again in a deep sleep. Boris and the children had given up trying to wake Nanny Piggins with ghost effects. So Michael dressed up in Mr Green’s best bed sheet (they had sent Mr Green to bed on a bare mattress, explaining that his sheets had been confiscated by the dirty laundry police – an
‘I am the Ghost of Easter Past!’ announced Samantha grandly.
‘Really?’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Because you are the spitting image of the little girl I look after. Have you met her? Her name is Samantha.’
Samantha decided it was best to ignore her nanny’s insightful comment. ‘I am here to show you the Easters that have been!’ she declared. ‘Come with me!’
Nanny Piggins scowled.
Samantha realised what her nanny was thinking and corrected herself. ‘ Please , come with me’.
‘All right then,’ said Nanny Piggins, smiling and jumping out of bed. ‘But it will have to be quick.I need my Easter sleep. I’ve got a big day of eating tomorrow.’
Samantha led Nanny Piggins downstairs. (She had to get off the skateboard when she got to the staircase because she did not want to break her neck or tear Mrs Simpson’s wedding dress.) Then she took her into the living room, where the untuned television had been switched on. The black and white pixelated screen hummed and crackled.
‘Oh goody,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Are we going to watch TV? Because I haven’t had a chance to watch the episode of The Young and the Irritable that I taped earlier today. I’m dying to find out if Bethany’s eye-patch surgery was successful.’
‘No, we are going to watch home movies of your Easters past,’ intoned Samantha, with as much gravitas as she could muster, ‘so you can see what you have done.’
A video crackled onto the screen. (Michael was operating the remote from behind the sofa.) The video showed Nanny Piggins a year earlier, looking fabulous, but not behaving in the most dignified way.
‘More more MORE,’ bellowed the on-screen Nanny Piggins as she ran around a stranger’s backyard, grabbing chocolate and chomping it up.
‘Wow,’ marvelled Nanny Piggins. ‘I think my athleticism when I’m hunting Easter eggs rivals even my athleticism when I am blasted out of a cannon.’
‘Keep watching,’ instructed Samantha sternly.
On the video Nanny Piggins was eating more and more and more chocolate. It was becoming smeared all over her face, hair and Easter bonnet.
‘Oh dear,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Milk chocolate goes with almost everything, but it does not look particularly flattering with a floral dress.’
The camera panned across to show two small children crying.
‘What’s wrong with those children?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Why are they crying?’
‘You ate their Easter eggs,’ explained Samantha, still in her ‘Ghost of Easter Past’ voice.
‘ Their Easter eggs?’ questioned Nanny Piggins.
‘They were hidden in their garden,’ added Samantha.
‘Then why didn’t they find them and eat them?’ asked Nanny Piggins, genuinely puzzled.
‘Because children aren’t allowed to get up at three o’clock in the morning and go running around in the dark,’ explained Samantha.
‘They’re not?’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘Ialways let Derrick, Samantha and Michael do that if they want to.’
‘Most parents make their children wait, at least until daylight, before they start their Easter egg hunt,’ said Samantha.
‘Really?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Those poor children. I just assumed that all those eggs had been abandoned by a series of people who had suddenly and unexpectedly been diagnosed with diabetes.’
‘Now that you know what you have done,’ said Samantha, sounding as authoritative and dramatic as she could, ‘you may return to bed.’
‘Since we’re up, how about we watch The Young and the Irritable ?’ suggested Nanny Piggins.
‘No, you must return to bed,’ said Samantha firmly.
Twenty minutes later Nanny Piggins was again in a deep sleep. Boris and the children had given up trying to wake Nanny Piggins with ghost effects. So Michael dressed up in Mr Green’s best bed sheet (they had sent Mr Green to bed on a bare mattress, explaining that his sheets had been confiscated by the dirty laundry police – an
Similar Books
