The Exploits of Moominpappa (Moominpappa's Memoirs) by Tove Jansson Page B
Authors: Tove Jansson
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Listen, Moomin, weren't you sorry to get such peculiar prizes?'
'I like them,' I replied. 'And think of the honour! Not to mention your daughter who won the main prize.'
'She's a credit to the family,' said the Mymble proudly.
'So you're not angry with her any more?' I asked.
'Angry?' said the Mymble surprised. 'I'm never angry with anybody, at least not for long. I simply haven't the time! Eighteen, nineteen kiddies to wash, put to bed, button up and button down, feed, wipe the nose of, and the Groke knows what. No, my young Moomin, I'm enjoying myself all the time! '
'And what a singular brother you have,' I continued by way of conversation.
'Brother?' said the Mymble.
'Yes, your daughter's maternal uncle,' I explained.
'Who camps beside all the longest words until he's studied them enough, and who sleeps in his long red beard where two white mice lodge free of rent.'
The Mymble started to laugh heartily and said: 'What a daughter I have, indeed! She's been pulling your leg, Moomin! She hasn't any uncle that I know of. Cheerio, I'll have to try the merry-go-round!'
And the Mymble collected as many of her children that her broad lap could hold and mounted one of the red carriages drawn by a dapple grey horse.
'What a remarkable lady,' said the Joxter with sincere admiration.
On the horse sat the Muddler looking quaint.
'Well?' I asked. 'Isn't it fun?'
'Yes thanks, grand,' said the Muddler. 'I'm certainly having a swell time. But this going round and round makes you a bit sick in the end It's a pity!'
'How many rounds have you been on?' I asked.
'Don't know,' replied the Muddler exhaustedly. 'A lot! Such a lot! Oh, here I go again!'
'Time to go home,' said Hodgkins. 'Where's the King?'
But Daddy Jones was busy at the swings, so we left discreetly.
(Except for the Joxter who wasn't able to tear himself from the company of the merry and laughing Mymble.)
In the park we found our Nibling. He had dug himself a hole in the ground and gone to sleep.
'Hullo!' I said. 'You haven't taken out your prizes.'
'Prizes?' said the Nibling and blinked his eyes.
'Your eggs,' said Hodgkins. 'You had a dozen.'
'I ate them,' answered the Nibling shyly. 'I hadn't anything else to do while I waited for you.'
I've often wondered since what the Nibling's prizes would have been and who got them when he didn't ask for them.
Perhaps Daddy Jones saved them for his next centennial garden party.
CHAPTER 6
In which I become a Royal Outlaw Colonist and show remarkable presence of mind when meeting the Ghost of Horror Island.
A T dawn the following day a uniformed Hemulen of the Autocrat Guards knocked on the door of our cabin and shouted: 'Telegram! Express telegram for Mr Hodgkins!'
Hodgkins calmly put on his captain's cap and opened the message. It read:
OUR ATTENTION DIRECTED FACT HODGKINS FIRST-CLASS INVENTOR PLEASE PLACE TALENTS IMMEDIATELY AUTOCRAT JONESS SERVICE URGENT
'Excuse me,' said the Muddler, 'but he doesn't seem to be any grand letter-writer. There's a lot of small words and stops missing.'
'That's how express telegrams are,' explained Hodgkins. 'No time to put in all the words. It's a very good telegram.'
'But you said yourself that not a single letter's lost on the way,' said the Nibling.
'Too long to explain now,' said Hodgkins. 'I'll have to see the King.'
'May I put in the small words in your express telegram while you're away?' asked the Muddler.
'Please do,' said Hodgkins. 'But carefully.'
'Are you going to stay with the King?' I asked anxiously.
'Don't know yet,' Hodgkins said abstractedly, polishing his zipper. 'Depends. New tools... tons of nuts and bolts... miles of wire spring... Might improve the house-boat...'
'And what about me?' I said.
'You?' said Hodgkins surprised. 'You'll stay too, of course. As Royal Moominhouse constructor. We'll found a colony. We'll be colonists.'
'M-m,' I replied and went ashore to visit the Mymble. I kicked a stone before me all the way and pretended it was
'I like them,' I replied. 'And think of the honour! Not to mention your daughter who won the main prize.'
'She's a credit to the family,' said the Mymble proudly.
'So you're not angry with her any more?' I asked.
'Angry?' said the Mymble surprised. 'I'm never angry with anybody, at least not for long. I simply haven't the time! Eighteen, nineteen kiddies to wash, put to bed, button up and button down, feed, wipe the nose of, and the Groke knows what. No, my young Moomin, I'm enjoying myself all the time! '
'And what a singular brother you have,' I continued by way of conversation.
'Brother?' said the Mymble.
'Yes, your daughter's maternal uncle,' I explained.
'Who camps beside all the longest words until he's studied them enough, and who sleeps in his long red beard where two white mice lodge free of rent.'
The Mymble started to laugh heartily and said: 'What a daughter I have, indeed! She's been pulling your leg, Moomin! She hasn't any uncle that I know of. Cheerio, I'll have to try the merry-go-round!'
And the Mymble collected as many of her children that her broad lap could hold and mounted one of the red carriages drawn by a dapple grey horse.
'What a remarkable lady,' said the Joxter with sincere admiration.
On the horse sat the Muddler looking quaint.
'Well?' I asked. 'Isn't it fun?'
'Yes thanks, grand,' said the Muddler. 'I'm certainly having a swell time. But this going round and round makes you a bit sick in the end It's a pity!'
'How many rounds have you been on?' I asked.
'Don't know,' replied the Muddler exhaustedly. 'A lot! Such a lot! Oh, here I go again!'
'Time to go home,' said Hodgkins. 'Where's the King?'
But Daddy Jones was busy at the swings, so we left discreetly.
(Except for the Joxter who wasn't able to tear himself from the company of the merry and laughing Mymble.)
In the park we found our Nibling. He had dug himself a hole in the ground and gone to sleep.
'Hullo!' I said. 'You haven't taken out your prizes.'
'Prizes?' said the Nibling and blinked his eyes.
'Your eggs,' said Hodgkins. 'You had a dozen.'
'I ate them,' answered the Nibling shyly. 'I hadn't anything else to do while I waited for you.'
I've often wondered since what the Nibling's prizes would have been and who got them when he didn't ask for them.
Perhaps Daddy Jones saved them for his next centennial garden party.
CHAPTER 6
In which I become a Royal Outlaw Colonist and show remarkable presence of mind when meeting the Ghost of Horror Island.
A T dawn the following day a uniformed Hemulen of the Autocrat Guards knocked on the door of our cabin and shouted: 'Telegram! Express telegram for Mr Hodgkins!'
Hodgkins calmly put on his captain's cap and opened the message. It read:
OUR ATTENTION DIRECTED FACT HODGKINS FIRST-CLASS INVENTOR PLEASE PLACE TALENTS IMMEDIATELY AUTOCRAT JONESS SERVICE URGENT
'Excuse me,' said the Muddler, 'but he doesn't seem to be any grand letter-writer. There's a lot of small words and stops missing.'
'That's how express telegrams are,' explained Hodgkins. 'No time to put in all the words. It's a very good telegram.'
'But you said yourself that not a single letter's lost on the way,' said the Nibling.
'Too long to explain now,' said Hodgkins. 'I'll have to see the King.'
'May I put in the small words in your express telegram while you're away?' asked the Muddler.
'Please do,' said Hodgkins. 'But carefully.'
'Are you going to stay with the King?' I asked anxiously.
'Don't know yet,' Hodgkins said abstractedly, polishing his zipper. 'Depends. New tools... tons of nuts and bolts... miles of wire spring... Might improve the house-boat...'
'And what about me?' I said.
'You?' said Hodgkins surprised. 'You'll stay too, of course. As Royal Moominhouse constructor. We'll found a colony. We'll be colonists.'
'M-m,' I replied and went ashore to visit the Mymble. I kicked a stone before me all the way and pretended it was
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