purple in exasperation by the time they had run through it for the fourth time.
Oh, off we go — dippy-dee, dippy-doe,
Bouncing on the ends of our tippy-tippy toes.
Hungry little beavers — eager to see,
Feeling dreadfully sorry for any absentees.
We look up, we look down,
We look left and right and round,
Not a thing do we miss,
Not one Bruce or Dick or Chris.
All the other children are doing ordinary things,
While here in our bus we sit like kings
And now we’re on our way!
As they sang they passed around bags of boiled sweets. Ernest munched on some roasted chestnuts that had turned as hard as pebbles. A boy called Ha-Ha Pyles shared his tin of blueberry marshmallows, which everyone had a try of. Ha-Ha Pyles was a sunny and good-natured boy despite his rather unfortunate surname. (Look it up if you think it doesn’t sound too bad.) Ha-Ha was a nickname acquired from a habit of laughing at most things people said to him. You could say a casual ‘It’s looking like rain’, or the slightly more sober ‘My grandmother has just been diagnosed with dementia’, and Peter’s (his birth name) inevitable response was ‘Ha-ha’. His teachers told hisparents he would eventually outgrow the habit, and they were right; but the nickname stuck.
The singing stopped abruptly when the bus turned into a gravel driveway lined with poplars and pulled up in front of a magnificent construction that looked as if it had floated across the world from a Renaissance city. Milli and Ernest barely recognised the place that had once been their adoptive home. The twisting gravel drive was the only thing that had not been transformed. It seemed appropriate that what had once been a prison that repressed individual thought should now function as a place that celebrated childhood and enjoyment.
Von Gobstopper’s Arcade had been modelled on the arcades found in many European cities. If you have ever seen one, you will know that they are tunnel-shaped buildings with arches for entrances, and a fair bit of decoration in the form of carved stone pillars, more arches and a dome of glass. Leading up to the entrance were hedges that had been shaped with bewitching artistry into giant toys. The children marvelled at a shrub teddy bear sitting on his bottom and waving his paws, two soldiers cut from poplarsthat stood on either side of the entrance, and assorted gadgets such as yo-yos, bouncy balls and even a giant train set. Above the arched entrance, a painted daisy chain spelled out the words: Von Gobstopper’s Arcade — Children of All Ages Welcome. Nearby, still outside, was a giant statue of the building’s founder. Giant statues of founders or patrons usually look rather stern, but Von Gobstopper’s statue showed a gentle, smiling man. He wore overalls, and was holding a hammer and a chisel, the most basic tools of his trade. Although he had a moustache, the crinkling around his eyes and the corners of his mouth indicated that he had never quite grown up.
Miss Macaw announced their arrival to a man in a ticket cubicle, but their presence had already been noted. She had barely finished speaking when there was a sound like the clashing of cymbals and an elegant woman in a smart suit, bubblegum pink, and with matching stilettos, appeared at the entrance and moved towards them with crisp and decisive gestures. She was inordinately tall and insect-thin. Her heels made a crunching sound on the gravelwhen she walked. Her face and hands were chalk white and her lips only slightly less pale. Her black hair was swept back from her oval face, smoothed into place by some unguent and held by tortoise-shell combs. The dark circles under her eyes suggested she was not a good sleeper. Although she could not be more than twenty, her demeanour suggested someone much older. Milli noticed that she didn’t look directly at the children; rather, her eyes focused on an area slightly above their heads.
‘Welcome to Von Gobstopper’s Arcade,’
Oh, off we go — dippy-dee, dippy-doe,
Bouncing on the ends of our tippy-tippy toes.
Hungry little beavers — eager to see,
Feeling dreadfully sorry for any absentees.
We look up, we look down,
We look left and right and round,
Not a thing do we miss,
Not one Bruce or Dick or Chris.
All the other children are doing ordinary things,
While here in our bus we sit like kings
And now we’re on our way!
As they sang they passed around bags of boiled sweets. Ernest munched on some roasted chestnuts that had turned as hard as pebbles. A boy called Ha-Ha Pyles shared his tin of blueberry marshmallows, which everyone had a try of. Ha-Ha Pyles was a sunny and good-natured boy despite his rather unfortunate surname. (Look it up if you think it doesn’t sound too bad.) Ha-Ha was a nickname acquired from a habit of laughing at most things people said to him. You could say a casual ‘It’s looking like rain’, or the slightly more sober ‘My grandmother has just been diagnosed with dementia’, and Peter’s (his birth name) inevitable response was ‘Ha-ha’. His teachers told hisparents he would eventually outgrow the habit, and they were right; but the nickname stuck.
The singing stopped abruptly when the bus turned into a gravel driveway lined with poplars and pulled up in front of a magnificent construction that looked as if it had floated across the world from a Renaissance city. Milli and Ernest barely recognised the place that had once been their adoptive home. The twisting gravel drive was the only thing that had not been transformed. It seemed appropriate that what had once been a prison that repressed individual thought should now function as a place that celebrated childhood and enjoyment.
Von Gobstopper’s Arcade had been modelled on the arcades found in many European cities. If you have ever seen one, you will know that they are tunnel-shaped buildings with arches for entrances, and a fair bit of decoration in the form of carved stone pillars, more arches and a dome of glass. Leading up to the entrance were hedges that had been shaped with bewitching artistry into giant toys. The children marvelled at a shrub teddy bear sitting on his bottom and waving his paws, two soldiers cut from poplarsthat stood on either side of the entrance, and assorted gadgets such as yo-yos, bouncy balls and even a giant train set. Above the arched entrance, a painted daisy chain spelled out the words: Von Gobstopper’s Arcade — Children of All Ages Welcome. Nearby, still outside, was a giant statue of the building’s founder. Giant statues of founders or patrons usually look rather stern, but Von Gobstopper’s statue showed a gentle, smiling man. He wore overalls, and was holding a hammer and a chisel, the most basic tools of his trade. Although he had a moustache, the crinkling around his eyes and the corners of his mouth indicated that he had never quite grown up.
Miss Macaw announced their arrival to a man in a ticket cubicle, but their presence had already been noted. She had barely finished speaking when there was a sound like the clashing of cymbals and an elegant woman in a smart suit, bubblegum pink, and with matching stilettos, appeared at the entrance and moved towards them with crisp and decisive gestures. She was inordinately tall and insect-thin. Her heels made a crunching sound on the gravelwhen she walked. Her face and hands were chalk white and her lips only slightly less pale. Her black hair was swept back from her oval face, smoothed into place by some unguent and held by tortoise-shell combs. The dark circles under her eyes suggested she was not a good sleeper. Although she could not be more than twenty, her demeanour suggested someone much older. Milli noticed that she didn’t look directly at the children; rather, her eyes focused on an area slightly above their heads.
‘Welcome to Von Gobstopper’s Arcade,’
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