really, really are! Oh, you’re just SO adora–
Sorry, everyone. Seriously, I’ll shut up now. Here’s the story. Sorry.
THE END
‘We’ll fix it in a minute,’ laughed Alan Taylor as a nearby sparrow turned into a dinosaur. ‘But not just yet – this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!’
‘Oops,’ said Friday as they sat there watching the trees turning into seeds, the passers-by turning into ancient Romans and the sun setting and rising over and over again.
‘Oh, no!’ said Polly. ‘Frides, you was meant to wind it
forwards
! But you jus’ gone an’ wound it backwards even faster, you silly!’
So Friday took out a little key and wound up the silver pocket-watch and everyone waited to see what would happen.
‘Gould it somehow be controllin’ Time itself?’ said Polly in excitement.
‘And look,’ said Friday. ‘It’s running backwards! The hands are moving the wrong way!’
‘A old silver pocket-watch from the Victorian days what was ruled over by Queen Victorian!’ she exclaimed.
Alan Taylor jumped out of Jake’s mouth and handed the spit-covered object to Polly.
‘What a lovely dog he is!’ said Alan Taylor, climbing inside Jake’s mouth and stroking his tongue affectionately. ‘Hey, what’s this I’ve found in here?’
‘BARK!’ said Jake and everyone laughed to see that Polly had been right.
‘I bet Jakey’s gonna bark in a second,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, look, here comes Jake!’ cried Polly, who loved Jake the dog more than any other dog in the world, even that one on TV who can talk.
‘Forget it,’ said Alan Taylor.
‘What?’ said Friday. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you that time either.’
‘I said it’s really rather interesting, isn’t it?’
‘What?’ said Friday, who hadn’t really been listening.
‘Yes,’ said Polly.
‘No, absolutely no idea, I’m afraid,’ said Alan Taylor, his electric muscles whirring cheerfully. ‘But it’s really rather interesting, isn’t it?’
‘Oh,’ said Polly. ‘We was a-hopin’ you could tell us.’
‘Polly! Friday!’ cried little Alan Taylor, coming out to meet them. ‘I’m glad you’re here. What on earth’s going on?’
‘!PEEHC’ said a bird, flying backwards through the air.
‘I does hope Alan Taylor knows what’s a-goin’ on,’ said Polly as they saw Saint Pterodactyl’s School for the Poor gleaming in the sunshine on the top of the hill.
And eventually they were at the top.
Then they were very near the top.
After a while they were quite near the top.
They weren’t anywhere near the top.
It was a long walk to the top.
So off they started, up Boaster’s Hill.
‘Oh, I expect so,’ said Friday. ‘He is a headmaster after all. And headmasters know everything, like the names of famous blackcurrants and how many grains of rice there are in the sky. Come on, Polly – let’s start walking.’
‘Frides, do you think Alan Taylor will know what’s a-goin’ on?’ she asked.
‘That was a well long sentence what Friday just said,’ thought Polly.
‘Well, little miss,’ said Friday, scratching his nose thoughtfully with an electronic nosescratcher made from the leg of Hercules. ‘I know all about the mysteries of time and space but I’ve never seen anything like this before, not in all my years, and to be honest I’m rather confused and a little bit worried, so perhaps we should go and visit our good friend Alan Taylor up at his school on Boaster’s Hill because he might have an idea what’s going on and anyway it’s a nice day for walking up hills and I could do with the exercise because Mrs Lovely says I’m getting a little bit portly around the belly area, which is the part of the body between your legs and your face.’
‘Yeah, that’s it!’ exclaimed Polly as a golden-brown leaf flew up from the ground and attached itself to a tree. ‘Frides, what’s a-goin’ on?’
‘Backwards?’ suggested Friday.
‘It’s almost like everythin’s
Sorry, everyone. Seriously, I’ll shut up now. Here’s the story. Sorry.
THE END
‘We’ll fix it in a minute,’ laughed Alan Taylor as a nearby sparrow turned into a dinosaur. ‘But not just yet – this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!’
‘Oops,’ said Friday as they sat there watching the trees turning into seeds, the passers-by turning into ancient Romans and the sun setting and rising over and over again.
‘Oh, no!’ said Polly. ‘Frides, you was meant to wind it
forwards
! But you jus’ gone an’ wound it backwards even faster, you silly!’
So Friday took out a little key and wound up the silver pocket-watch and everyone waited to see what would happen.
‘Gould it somehow be controllin’ Time itself?’ said Polly in excitement.
‘And look,’ said Friday. ‘It’s running backwards! The hands are moving the wrong way!’
‘A old silver pocket-watch from the Victorian days what was ruled over by Queen Victorian!’ she exclaimed.
Alan Taylor jumped out of Jake’s mouth and handed the spit-covered object to Polly.
‘What a lovely dog he is!’ said Alan Taylor, climbing inside Jake’s mouth and stroking his tongue affectionately. ‘Hey, what’s this I’ve found in here?’
‘BARK!’ said Jake and everyone laughed to see that Polly had been right.
‘I bet Jakey’s gonna bark in a second,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, look, here comes Jake!’ cried Polly, who loved Jake the dog more than any other dog in the world, even that one on TV who can talk.
‘Forget it,’ said Alan Taylor.
‘What?’ said Friday. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you that time either.’
‘I said it’s really rather interesting, isn’t it?’
‘What?’ said Friday, who hadn’t really been listening.
‘Yes,’ said Polly.
‘No, absolutely no idea, I’m afraid,’ said Alan Taylor, his electric muscles whirring cheerfully. ‘But it’s really rather interesting, isn’t it?’
‘Oh,’ said Polly. ‘We was a-hopin’ you could tell us.’
‘Polly! Friday!’ cried little Alan Taylor, coming out to meet them. ‘I’m glad you’re here. What on earth’s going on?’
‘!PEEHC’ said a bird, flying backwards through the air.
‘I does hope Alan Taylor knows what’s a-goin’ on,’ said Polly as they saw Saint Pterodactyl’s School for the Poor gleaming in the sunshine on the top of the hill.
And eventually they were at the top.
Then they were very near the top.
After a while they were quite near the top.
They weren’t anywhere near the top.
It was a long walk to the top.
So off they started, up Boaster’s Hill.
‘Oh, I expect so,’ said Friday. ‘He is a headmaster after all. And headmasters know everything, like the names of famous blackcurrants and how many grains of rice there are in the sky. Come on, Polly – let’s start walking.’
‘Frides, do you think Alan Taylor will know what’s a-goin’ on?’ she asked.
‘That was a well long sentence what Friday just said,’ thought Polly.
‘Well, little miss,’ said Friday, scratching his nose thoughtfully with an electronic nosescratcher made from the leg of Hercules. ‘I know all about the mysteries of time and space but I’ve never seen anything like this before, not in all my years, and to be honest I’m rather confused and a little bit worried, so perhaps we should go and visit our good friend Alan Taylor up at his school on Boaster’s Hill because he might have an idea what’s going on and anyway it’s a nice day for walking up hills and I could do with the exercise because Mrs Lovely says I’m getting a little bit portly around the belly area, which is the part of the body between your legs and your face.’
‘Yeah, that’s it!’ exclaimed Polly as a golden-brown leaf flew up from the ground and attached itself to a tree. ‘Frides, what’s a-goin’ on?’
‘Backwards?’ suggested Friday.
‘It’s almost like everythin’s
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