Children's Books & Writing Stories Once upon a time...  Children's Books & Writing Stories Once upon a time...










Hi Ewan here. Wow, thank goodness Christmas and New Year are over. Cor, what was that all about then? I feared my life had changed and that was going to be my lifestyle forever. At home with my mum and dad every day. Spooky. That was doing my head in. There was no structure. No meals as such just food.

I got back to nursery sat down at the table and my breakfast was immediately served to me in a dish on the dot of 7.30am, just as it should be. At nursery I know exactly when I will be eating, so I can plan my day. Also, I can sleep when I’m tired.

None of this get up at 9.00am and at 11.00am say: “Shall we go to White Post Farm, Clumber Park or Rufford or just stay home. Oh! I haven’t given you your breakfast yet, have I Ewan?”

Yes, lovely structure to my day at last.

Also at nursery there were no new toys. Just the old familiar ones I love. At home I have had all this new rubbish forced on to me and my old ones, the ones I love so much, put away or even thrown away, I bet. One of the more entertaining things when I was imprisoned with my parents was watching the dustbin lorry from our lounge window. The dustmen looked really jolly and were laughing lots. I know why that was: because mum and dad had dumped my old toys in the bin and the dustmen had the time of their lives with them. The toys made them so happy like they used to make me happy.

I’m going to be a dustman when I start work. Every dustbin holds a multitude of surprises and adventures. The bins are so brilliant.  They are so good because mum and dad don’t let me and Brother Rory anywhere near them. They only stop us on really tremendous things.

One of my biggest complaints about Christmas is on the present front. How come the things I wanted most, the ones I really, really wanted were not given to me but given to Rory. It’s alright mum and dad saying, “You’re too young for that”. Let me be the judge of that. Then there’s the classic “You should have asked Santa, if you wanted one.”

No! I did not know I wanted it until Rory was playing with it. So I definitely did not know before Christmas. And what’s the point in telling that Santa bloke, he has a memory like a sieve. Every time he saw me he asked me my name. If he can’t put a name to a face, how’s he gonna put a list of toys to a face.

Anyway, don’t worry about me, I can look after myself. If I want to play with Brother Rory’s toys I will. Who is gonna stop me. Although there is just one I can’t seem to get at, it is always out of reach or someone stops me, that is this suit case thing full of crayons, felt tip pens and pencils. There are six and eighty fourteen thousand of them or something like that, a lot anyway. Too many to hold in my hand, or brother Rory’s hand or dad’s hand or even grandad’s hand. But if I could get them there are enough to colour in every wall in the house.

Santa gave me a special present, chicken pox. Here again, sums him up. I never asked for chicken pox and didn’t put it on my list, but he gave it to me. Why? I bet some other poor kid was desperate for chicken pox and he gave them me. There’s all this mystery about Santa coming secretly in the night to leave presents. But I knew he’d given it to me when I got up and was all spotty next morning. But what was the point of them. Rory had a Joseph costume and he was Joseph. With my spots I looked like mum’s Cath Kidston’s shopping bag. But I didn’t star in any production, or anything. Pointless.

My favourite film ever is The Snowman. But at the moment my favourite film ever is The Gruffalo. It is exactly like the Snowman. It is a carbon copy. In fact, if you watch the Gruffalo you can be forgiven for thinking you are watching The Snowman, except there is no snow in The Gruffalo or snowman or any snowmen at all. No Father Christmas. No little boy, in fact, no humans at all. No one walks through the air in The Gruffalo. There are no Snowdogs in the Gruffalo not even any real dogs. There is a Big Bad Mouse in the Gruffalo, but not even a Snow Mouse in The Snowman. The Gruffalo does not have a satsuma for a nose but on his nose he has a big green grape looking festering wart. But there is an owl in The Snowman and The Gruffalo and a fox in both, too.

The Gruffalo is a teaching film. I learned so much from the Big Bad Mouse, yes I am the Big Bad Mouse.

At the end of the day (that should read film) The Snowman is about snow and The Gruffalo about food. And life is all about food.

Bye, Bye, Ewan




When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.


Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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