J-J Pierre's Parisian Friday (5-6)

Little J-J Pierre is French and he lives in Paris. 

He loves ‘lait Fraise’ and he likes to sit on a street cafe terrace, sipping from a frosted glass, watching the world roll by.

On a Friday after school, his ‘Maman’ will order him a portion of thin, salty French-fries, with a little pot of mayonnaise to dip them in.  For herself, she’ll order steaming hot, black coffee and two brightly coloured macaroons.  Then they’ll sit together, side by side, gazing at the people walking by. 

Some rush past, their eyes glued to the pavement, determined not to be delayed a moment longer than necessary.  J-J Pierre likes to imagine that they have secret missions to attend to.  Spy-like missions, involving spy-like gadgets and spy-like cars.  He supposes that they have ‘Top-Secret’ documents in their briefcases, and voice tape recorders in their pockets.  He wonders if their pens are really memory-wiping tools and if they use their lunch boxes as walkie-talkies.

Others wander aimlessly, sometimes looking at maps, sometimes glancing up in to the sky as if to be led by the clouds.  Those, he has been informed by Maman, are ‘Tourists’.  They come to see Paris’ beautiful cathedrals and galleries, its famous river and the world renowned ‘Tour d’Eiffel’!  J-J Pierre likes to try and get in to the background of the thousands of photos they take.  He likes to pull a funny face or make bunny ears behind the many posing faces.

Then there are those that swagger casually by, with their noses held high up in the air.  Fluffy, snooty dogs on long strings of ribbon, skip along at their heels, turning up their snouts at the many things that displease them.  Those people wear smart, colourful blazers with wild, silk scarves and they talk in ridiculously loud voices.  J-J Pierre wishes they wouldn’t speak so loud when their friends are standing so close beside them.  These are his least favourite kind of people and he wonders how they can see where they are going with their noses held aloft!

When J-J Pierre is really in luck, Maman will ask the nice waiter – a tall, thin man in a long white apron which reaches from his belly to his toes – to bring a sticky 'eclair'.  This he eats as slowly as possible, with a miniature silver fork, relishing each and every sweet, delicious mouthful.

Once he has scooped-up every last crumb and Maman has finished the last drop of velvet black coffee and paid the bill with a handful of notes and coins, they brush down their laps and walk slowly home.

Those are the best Fridays for J-J Pierre!  French fries, pink milk, cake and time with Maman!

Jamie's Jungle (5-6)

Jamie likes the jungle at the back of the airing cupboard.

 It has always been there, so he’s never thought to question it.

He’s never thought to dispute the screeching monkeys, or the rowdy parrots.

And he’s never thought to ask about the rasping snakes and mosquitos the size of toffee pennies. 

They have always just buzzed away quietly, night and day, at the very back of the small, dark room, where freshly ironed sheets and shirts are left to air, and where his brother’s long-forgotten cress-growing experiment has started to take on a life of its own.

He knows no one else can see the jungle and all its noisy inhabitants, but that doesn’t bother him.  In fact, it makes him feel special.  Ever-so special.

He knows where all the odd socks disappear to.

He knows that those paw prints on the clean white table cloth aren’t from their pet cat Mildred but, from the velvety panther that likes to sit atop the fresh, warm linen piles.

And he knows that the groany creaking noises that come at night aren’t monsters on the stairs, but elephants leaning, lazily, against giant jungle trees.

But what Jamie doesn’t know is that there is a mountain, looming like a giant, at the back of the cupboard under the stairs.


I wonder when he’ll figure that one out. 


THAT’S where his favourite football went!

Shhh, not telling

Arthur Arty McArthurson has a secret.  

Unfortunately, this is where the story ends, as he’s not telling anyone.

New book

Olivia Alice flies amongst the pages of the books she reads.

First, she cracks open the shiny spine and breathes in that delicious, bitter new-book smell.  Then, carefully and one-by-one, she peels the pages back, drinking in the glossy images inside.  She doesn’t take in the words the first time around, reserving that pleasure for later.

When she’s finished, she closes the book and sets it on top of the large feather pillow on her bed, before she hurries back in to the garden to play.  She’ll wait until bed time to enjoy that new book feeling all over again when, this time, she’ll read through the rolling paragraphs, absorbing each and every word and enjoying the pictures in a whole new light.

Then, having read the book 4, 5, maybe even 6 times, Olivia will fall in to a deep, luxurious sleep and, in her dreams, fly amongst the pages of the book she’s just read.