E-Book, Englisch, 164 Seiten
ISBN: 978-3-7460-7214-2
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
My name is John Joseph Elliott. I was born in London, but now I live in Essey. I have studied for many years, in Philosophy, English Literature and Linguistics. In my life I have travelled a lot in Europe and the Middle East.
Autoren/Hrsg.
Weitere Infos & Material
LAWRENCE AT THE VICARAGE
INTRODUCTION Hello, It’s Doris the spider here once again, inviting you to join Lawrence the Lawnmower and his many friends in their adventures at the vicarage, in the seaside town of Peacehaven. Within the grounds of the vicarage stands an old brick shed, which has a large wooden door, and a light bulb, which hangs on a cord in the middle of the shed, and flickers on and off. Bedded in the wall of this shed is a small window with a broken pane of glass through which spiders, butterflies, and other insects enter. Inside the shed there are many various tools, which make up the Cleaning Crew. Their job is to keep the vicarage clean and tidy. Among the many tools in the old brick shed for you to meet are Arthur the rake, the brother of Ronnie, his best mate Viv the sieve, whose stories are full of holes, and Longwave the radio, who sits on the wooden shelf. She is very handy in a crisis and plays lovely music. Mad-Ears is a small pair of shears, who likes to ask questions, and lay beside the radio. Also on the shelf is Top 8 the teapot, who spouts off a lot. Lawrence the lawnmower is in his usual place at the back of the shed, next to Churchill-Grey the wheelbarrow and a broom with no name, who never leaves the shed. On the cold concrete floor there is a clay pot called Cotter and the Mop Heads who giggle a lot and like to dance, that‘s if you can call it dancing. The caretaker is called Mr Salisbury and he keeps an eye on all of us here in the shed. You can meet many more characters, as my stories unfold in and around the Vicarage in Peacehavena. A FLY BY NIGHT
‘‘I’m bleeding, cried Lawrence the lawnmower noisily, I’m bleeding.’‘ Don‘t be silly, said Arthur the Rake, you can’t bleed you’re made of tin, and anyway it’s red paint.’‘ ‘‘There‘s paint everywhere, cried Viv the sieve, red, green, blue, and white.’‘ I curled up into a ball and hid in a small hole, not wanting to get involved. ‘‘Maybe it was that man Baz,’‘ implied Longwave the radio. ‘‘He sometimes stays here, when he can‘t find his way home.’‘ I went to stretch my legs and fell out of the hole. Everyone stared at me. ‘‘Come on then, spouted Top 8 the teapot, we know you know what happened.’‘ ‘‘I don’t know, said I, I don’t.” Yes you do,’‘ yelled Viv the sieve. ‘‘I don’t, I really don’t.’‘ ‘‘Yes you do.’‘ ‘‘No I don’t.’‘ ‘‘Yes you do.’‘ ‘‘I don’t know, I really don‘t know,’‘ cried I in a whimsy voice. The whole of the shed went silent, as they looked at me in total mistrust. ‘‘You’re telling fibs,’‘ whispered Arthur the rake. Feeling a little guilty, I began to explain what really did happen that night. How could I tell a lie. ‘‘ Well,” said I. ‘‘I awoke to a loud buzzing noise, and I knew that somewhere in the old brick shed there was a fly. It spun in a circle around the light bulb, settling on one of the rusty old hinges, which held up the shelf, on which stood the paint pots. Slowly, I moved towards the fly, until I was as close as I could be. My belly was rumbling, for I had not eaten since teatime. I made a lunge for it but sadly I missed, and it flew away and the whole of the shelf came crashing down. ‘‘And that is the whole truth,’‘ said I with tears in my eyes. There was complete silence until Mad-Ears the shears started giggling, because she noticed the Mop Heads were stuck together with blue paint, Churchill-Grey the wheelbarrow had turned green, whilst the discarded pink fluffy slippers were now white. Arthur the rake spoke clearly, I believe you,’‘ he said. That did surprise me. Lawrence and the others believed me too, which made me very happy. Poor Baz, I thought he always gets the blame for everything. I knew then that it was better to be honest and tell the truth. Later that day Mr Salisbury came and cleared up the mess in the shed and we all had a good laugh about it. THE WEDDING
On one hot sunny Sunday afternoon, a tawny owl flew through the door of the old brick shed, before landing onto the concrete floor. ‘‘Who the dickens are you?’‘ asked Churchill-Grey and Cotter the clay pot in unison. The owl moved out of the sunlight, which shone brightly through the doorway of the old brick shed, to a shaded area close to where the Mop heads stood. ‘‘My name is Arthur Brown, he said, and it‘s to wet to woo outside.” ‘‘I live with the man called Baz, who is getting married today in the church.’‘ As quickly as he had arrived he flew out through the doorway and onto the grass. I watched through the window as the wedding came to an end, and the party began. ‘‘Whose that man,’‘ asked Mad-Ears the shears shyly. ‘‘That’s Harry,’‘ retorted Viv the sieve, leaning over and almost rolling out through the door. ‘‘He’s the best man,’‘ said I. ‘‘If he‘s the best man I don‘t want to see the worst,’‘ laughed Arthur the rake. ‘‘That‘s not very nice, at least he isn’t a rake like you,’‘ cried Mad-Ears the shears. Viv the sieve, who was now leaning back against the brick wall, came to the defence of Arthur the rake. ‘‘He comes from a very long line of rakes, a very long line indeed,’‘ he said. ‘‘Of that I have no doubt, said Lawrence, of that I have no doubt.’‘ A big white car drew up outside the entrance of the church, where a lady with a pink hat was sobbing loudly. ‘‘Is she happy or sad,’‘ asked Mad-Ears the shears sleepily. ‘‘Happy I guess.’‘ The big white car sped off, taking Baz and his new bride on their honeymoon. ‘‘Aha, cried Mad-Ears, the moon is made of honey.’‘ The shed erupted into laughter. In his hurry to get away Baz left his Arthur Brown owl sitting on the grass, as everybody left the vicarage. I climbed up the cracks on the wall of the old brick shed, and settled down for a good night’s sleep on my window-sill. ICARUS DESCENDING
One evening as the sky grew dark a small pair of red shears called Mad-Ears spoke in almost a whisper. ‘‘Doris, she asked, “who is that?’‘ “Who,’‘ said I stretching my six legs? ‘‘There on the window- sill,’‘ she replied. I turned to look then gazed in awe at a butterfly, which was a plethora of the most beautiful colours one had ever seen. The light that hung from the centre of the shed flicked on and off while the rain fell drip, drip, drip from the windowsill on which I sat. The butterfly was soaking wet, from the rain and looked very tired. ‘‘Hello, said I, my name is Doris and this is Mad-Ears,’‘ pointing at the shears with one of my six legs, and the lawnmower, said I, his name is Lawrence.’‘ ‘‘Who are you,’‘ I asked in a concerned tone. ‘‘My name is Icarus,’‘ it said - shaking uncontrollably from the cold. ‘‘I - I live in the lighthouse with Nobby the lighthouse keeper, who is sick and must have help,” stuttered the saddened butterfly. For the last week or so, the weather in Peacehaven had been quite awful, with storms that raged as the rain crashed down the whole time. The sea was very rough, and not one person had we seen. ‘‘But how can we help you?’‘ asked Mad-Ears. ‘‘Please, please try’‘ begged Icarus in a sad tone. Then at that precise moment the Cleaning Crew began to awake. The first was Arthur the rake and then Top 8 the teapot, who always wakes up in a huff; Cotter the clay pot, Churchill-Grey the wheelbarrow, and finally the Mop Heads, who behave the same way whether they be awake or asleep. They started giggling together, and for no apparent reason burst into laughter. ‘‘Stop it, screamed Mad-Ears, stop it, you are becoming girlstrous!’‘ ‘‘You mean boisterous,’‘ retorted Arthur the rake and Viv the sieve in unison. Mad-Ears waited for a moment and then screamed back at them, ‘‘I said girlstrous and I meant girlstrous!’‘ Her outburst stunned us into complete silence. Suddenly Longwave the radio turned herself on, shaking Lawrence awake. Longwave the radio then repeated the same message over and over again ‘‘Mayday S.O.N. “Mayday S.O.N.” “Mayday S.O.N.’‘ The volume of Longwave the radio became louder and louder, until one by one the lights of the vicarage came on, lighting up the old Victorian building like a Christmas tree. Everything stood still as the door of the shed flew open and a man with a plastic hat and green boots listened carefully to the radio, then quickly...
