Have you ever noticed that prams and pushchairs are getting bigger. It’s almost as if the Victorians are making a comeback. Prams in the eighteen nineties were great big things, cantilevered and seemingly designed by Mr Isembard Kingdom Brunel out of riveted steel, as comfortable pulling carriages full of iron ingots as taking baby for a walk in the park. Then along came Mr Mclaren with his brilliant baby-buggy idea. Vis-à-vis, let’s not have babies and toddlers being carted around in vehicles the size of chieftain tanks but put them in something appropriate and neat, and foldable if possible so we can give each other space, get up stairs, not knock over other people’s small children, take the skin off pedestrians shins, all go camping and so on. But now… what has happened? We’ve gone backwards! The prams are on the march again. They’ve got bigger. It seems in Crouchers Green a giant pram again is a status symbol and the Scrummy Mummies are out in force, pushing vehicles that should by rights require an HGV licence. I saw a pram the other day that filled the whole aisle of a shop; it was like a flatbed truck with a small cargo of twins and a Steiff Classic Teddy Bear
who looked long and hard at the guard’s shoes and muttered something about ‘cheap and nasty’, nearly getting us thrown out of the country on our first visit. The gross national product of Poundland is, basically, low-priced baked beans, plastic cutlery and CDs of minor hits by the Beach Boys, sung by a small girls’ choir in Rumania. Mummy said she was just there to get cereal ‘cos they did big boxes of Sugyrice, FrostyPuffs, Wheatycorns and so on for 99p… which is even less than a pound. I wonder if there is a 99p shop where everything goes for 98p and so on. Hmm. Must find out. Anyway, mummy also bought some cheap chocolate bars and crisps… hooray… ‘cos she couldn’t resist. I looked around in vain for the King and Queen of Poundland, but they must have been on a state visit… maybe to Iceland next door. When we went back through passport control it was touch and go that they would let us out of the country as Mummy was 3p short but eventually she found some coins at the bottom of her bag so it was ok. I’m not sure if I liked Poundland. The scenery was OK if you like cut-price olives but to be honest, there wasn’t much to do and the people were not all that friendly… it’s a bit like France.
, from my room. I distinctly remembered leaving it on the toy chest after I got up this morning for breakfast, but of the hound there was no sign. In the process of searching for the poor mutt, I encountered, as well as some fluff and an old piece of crumpet, a peculiar footprint on the oak effect laminate floor by my door. It chilled me to the very marrow. Slightly damp and rounded, a bit like me, but with one; one mark you, large toe print. It had undoubtedly been left by some huge and deadly beast, lurking in the shadows, stalking the very chambers where I made my home. I shivered, partly through fear and partly through the fact that Mummy had forgotten to put on my trousers on due to being distracted by the delivery men and September was not as warm as it should be. Strange things were afoot. Was it linked to the large and mysterious package, which arrived this morning? What about the strange whooshing, pumping noise which had suddenly filled the building? I took out my trusty service revolver, (or 
. I found him, in sombre mood, playing The Teddy Bear’s Picnic on a small plastic violin. “I say Holmes”. I offered ” Good day What?” “What Watson?” he replied, “What do you mean by what Watson?. What’s the question”. “Indeed it is what?” I responed, manfully. “Stop saying ‘What’ Watson” he growled, “and speak properly” “Indeed Holmes.” I sighed, “I have a puzzle for you that will truly test your nerve, your intelligence and exercise those grey cells you hold so dear.” “Ah, Watson” he sighed as his mournful eyes lifted from the still vibrating string of the plastic fiddle”. “Is the game afoot?”. “No, the games a small missing dog” I replied sardonically, but a foot does come into it”. “Ha. Enough. You bring me nothing” he snarled, and, turning to leave, tripped over his laces and fell on his nose. “Ow” he exclaimed, exclaiming being the only thing to do in those circumstances, and followed it up with a grunt, but I quickly retorted, which settled things down a bit, and informed him as to the strange footprint and the missing hound and as I did so, his eyes narrowed as his mighty brain began to work on the knotty problem I had set for him. “Hmm” He said. “This is a one pipe problem” “But you gave up smoking” I said “Exactly” retorted Holmes “That’s the problem” he replied “Just got this bubble pipe now” and he blew several large bubbles which floated up to the ceiling and burst, leaving a sticky mark on the cornice. “Let me see this print Watson and I believe I may have your answer” he exclaimed. I took him to my chamber and showed him the dreaded mark, now fading on the B&Q laminate floor. He gazed at it for a moment, “Aha”. Shouted Holmes in glee, “Now the game is definitely afoot. Come with me Watson and bring your resolve and your trusty revolver. He bounded off, me following as fast as my chubby legs could follow. As we approached the back kitchen I heard the strange pumping, wooshing noise, I had heard earlier. As we stepped in I saw the portable laundry basket, and Mummy in her slippers standing by what I can only describe as a new washing machine. Quick as a flash Sherlock turned to me and said., in a voice as steely as a John Lewis cutlery set “Watson your tangled spaghetti of mystery is unravelled. Behold your missing hound.” He flipped up the lid of the portable laundry basket and there was Biscuit, My Lovin’ Pup. “But. But” “But me no buts. “ said Scooby Sherlock pointed at my Mummy’s foot. ‘”Here is your terrifying beast Watson” “That’s no way to talk about my mother…” I started, but then I saw, I saw my Mummy’s slipper had a hole at the front and her toe was peeping through, also, a small pool of water on the floor from the plumbing-in process had caused her slipper to be a bit damp, hence the terrifying seeming footprint, now rendered as friendly as a well fed tabby. “I see” I gasped “She knocked the hound into the basket while taking away my old trousers, whilst trying out the new washing machine and left the footprint in my room on her way out. Holmes. You have surpassed yourself once more Holmes glanced at me, a twinkle like a new star in his eyes, stuck his bubble pipe in his mouth sardonically and mumbled, “Elementary my dear Tommy. Rooby-Rooby Roo”. Truly, he is the world’s greatest defective!
in it, crabs, prawns, in fact a whole seafood risotto in one place. There was also a very shy octopus who wouldn’t show his face, presumably embarrassed about not picking the winners in the World Cup. But… and this is major… the biggest, bestest, scariest bit was the SHARKS! Yes, I said SHARKS! Exclamation mark. You are really close to them and they look really vicious. They have very, very sharp teeth and they look like they aren’t afraid to use them. They are swimming around with some turtles who all look a little bit nervous… well you would wouldn’t you? They were swimming around what looked like an underwater city with a giant whale skeleton. Don ‘t know if it was real, but it was way cool. I do wonder what the SHARKS are thinking. I mean, to them we look like we are in a big tank, walking around. They were probably looking at my Daddy and going, gosh, he’s a vicious looking brute; I’d stay clear of him if I were you. Well, Mr SHARK, he’s my Daddy and I think he’s lovely. What do you know, you’re just a big, prehistoric, eating machine with crooked teeth, what do you know? So there. Anyway, it was a great day out and I loved being with my Daddy. That’s all I’ve got time for right now, see you soon and don’t forget you’re never too old to play.
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which is cool as a penguin’s pocket and still one of my favourite toys, which I love playing with whenever I can wrestle it from Daddy! Anyway, I wonder what this coming birthday will have in store. Maybe a 
