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This is my post for the theme of sleep, this postcard got me a job from highlights, a hidden picture where the sheep are dreaming of kids flying. It was fun.

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Sometimes we’re lucky enough to fleetingly meet a someone who changes us, bursts heart open, adds three feet to your height and shows you where your forgotten wings are buried. And it’s mutual. The following (and the rest of the song which I need to illustrate) are for you Brian Tappin ~ roaring lion, gentle angel, boy I miss you right now, dude! xx

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Sometimes we’re lucky enough to fleetingly meet a someone who changes us, bursts heart open, adds three feet to your height and shows you where your forgotten wings are buried. And it’s mutual. The following (and the rest of the song which I need to illustrate) are for you Brian Tappin ~ roaring lion, gentle angel, boy I miss you right now, dude! xx

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(written between the 18th and 19th of February, 2015 in one straight sitting (a story written when time crosses midnight, is likely to have a few more strands and maybe bad words, than others)

Title: Sailor’s First Story (that you’ve heard, that is)

There are stories for the telling
and there are those which ain’t
– that’s what I’ve been told,
but I still can’t see no difference.

So I’ll throw a whole
flock of them at you
and you can decide
which is which.

I blows the stories out
as they come
– just as they come,
so sometimes there’s two middles,
or no end,
or even just three beginnings.

And if you want to know more about me
– well that’s definitely the one story
I know’s not worth telling.

All I give is my name
and that’s Sailor.

How dee doo?
Good I hope
and if not so,
spin three times,
blink at the sky
hard and long,
then think on this:

~~~~~

They called her Butterfly,
sometimes Terfly for short.
Not because of some airy, light beauty,
no, more because she’d never stop,
never alight in one damn place longer than a flea bite
(I’m telling of them fleas that bite for nanoseconds,
not thems others that grip on long and not be shaken
even on the brutalest fairground Waltzers).

And this goes for lovers too
– soon as some poor fret
had been dazzled by her shimmery
blizzards of soft words,
she’d be off with their hearts
and on to the next habitation
and over and over again.
Three a month. More.

Some say she’d never been held,
time-stopping slow and gentle,
s’why she’d never stay, get cosy
and ease into her self and surrounds.

Others say her old man’s bark,
– approx. three per minute – startled her so bad,
she couldn’t stop still for longer than
a third of a minute

(you see – now I know that last bit’s
dreadful storytelling for at least three reasons,
but it came out that way,
puffed out crooked.
And now it’s out there,
there it stays.
them’s the rules).

Terfly had more skills and talents than
an army of circuses and every single one in them,
including the animals.

It’s easier to tell
what she couldn’t do.
And that’s cook, sew and clean.

But the others
she’d do so well,
there was always and every
opportunities flowing
wherever she landed.
So that suited
her flit-flight nature.

Now that’s a long beginning.
And we ain’t yet got no middle
and certainly no inkling of an ending.

I’m never sure what’s its shape
when it’s coming out.
This one feels like a two middler,
so hold your horses
(and don’t forgets to give thems a sugar,
or apple, and tell thems they the best.
And anyone else hanging round
as long as them’s deserving.
Respect’s earnt, you know that, right?
There’s no respecting no one who ain’t worthy of that respect, thems like a barking-three-times-per-minute Pa, or a cold-heart Ma with no soft in her arms for snuggling and comfort).

~~~~~

Here’s the two middles.
Them’s short.

1) Terfly falls in love for the first time
with SkyLock, a cloud-tenter
(thems that make the hovering, giant bauble things for circuses – look just like bubbles, but there’s windows and seats so folks can get a good look from all angles – and you have to be trained for hundreds of years, so easy it is to get it wrong and have families flying they won’t have you back, that particular habitation).

2) SkyLock’s heard her reputation
and builds a special cloud-tent
– sets out backwards to make one
that goes against all the training
– one that will take them away, away,
keeps her with him,
no flit-flighting this one no more.

~~~~

Now here’s the thing.
He’s not liking that there’s no cooking, cleaning, sewing
– he’d made this cloud-tent fixed up to the nines with all the latest a chief chef could desire
but all she does, Terfly, is fret
– fret so loudly, wolves can hear her
twenty one summers away.

SkyLock regrets keeping her
– useless he thinks
and barks for the third time that minute.

Now. He knows well
there’s no ties for her
– no family wanting and wishing and missing her soft heart,
or sweet song, or tip-tap dancing so mesmerising
you can’t do for anything after, just gaze long-lost into nothing.

So he shoves her out
cruel as war,
shoves her out, barking every bad a sailor’s ever heard
and that’s the baddest bad ever of all. And then three times more.

Okay, but here’s the thing
(and I think this might be something of an ending,
or is it another beginning?
Who know, who cares,
I’m puffing hard and fast now,
couldn’t stop if you corked my straw).

Sudden, Terfly discovers
she’s got a skill she never knew:
she can fly! Well, more like a kind of flitty-swooshing
(have you watched a feather fall lately?
If not, do. it gives you the answer to everything.
Everything.
Straight up.
And down).

So she’s flitty-swooshing,
soft and grinning, singing free
and happy-to-bursting.

She scoffs love.
Maybe that’s why Pa barked
and Ma was ice-cold
– maybe that’s what love does.

But no sooner this sad thought’s out there,
almost like it’s visible or something,
there’s this creature – a humale kinda,
but his legs joined like a merman
and fins as well as arms, but ohhhh, so handsome,
just thinking of him I’m getting half-lid dream-eyes.

He catches her
(she ain’t quite mastered all them sky-diving tricks yet).
And holds her long…
And holds her soft…
And holds her gentle…

And slow-by-slow,
her cheek finds his upper arm
– it feels good enough she cries,
fist time ever. And he brushes and strokes
her hairs and head and that little tiny bit
where somes of us can grow bristle-hairs.

And she’s thinking:
no, this is love.
This is DEFINITELY love.
This is something all shades of new,
new as flying,
new as tomorrow’s sunrise,
new as the butterflies
beneath my tum-button
and she stays absolutely mushy-soft-still
in that place
for longer than all the time
she’s been on this god-forsaken land.

That’s the first.

Will you stay for more?
They come plenty.
Long as there’s ears and eyes.

I also like, every now and then,
the odd pat and smile,
or treat, you know
– that little something that says
I’m here and that’s
not too much hell of a thing…

~~~~~

PS: Shhhh. This next bit’s not for sharing:

(“Thanks Sailor!”

That’s me, typing up the words.

I love this little feller that came into my life as a surprise gift from the cafe owner where I sit painting pigeons and other all-kinds-of-odd most days. I think he’s seen me drooling over it every time I get a new napkin to wipe brushes. There’s something just so sweet, funny and compelling about him – can’t put my finger on it, but I’m so glad he’s landed in my life.

I’m to bed now. I pat Sailor, pass him a sugar. Tell him he’s lovely.
He grins. I nod and grins back :-).

PSS: I’ve found out Sailor likely came from the HMS Warwick Castle, biggest navy ship in both wars – went down in 1944, with Lucky Lady, a small ship, sailing out to help any survivors.

~~~~~~~~

Filed under: flying, journeys, love, sea

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The Ancient Region of Hairiness is a fictional place where everyone is loved, nurtured, adored and respected when little and throughout their lives, which in turn results in a land filled with delight, true wildness and extreme contentment. Oh, plus everyone and thing is hairy, whiskered, bearded, or both (even the pigeons).

Filed under: finding norway, flying, love

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Elderflush and Stan Motion

They dance like tomorrow’s birdsong
– times one hundred.

Hands meet briefly
making wings.

~~~~~

From the series:
PORTRAITS and SCENES from the ANCIENT REGION of HAIRINESS. Here there is much JOY, MIRTH…and HAPPINESS SOARS HIGHER than PieQuills, because LOVE is given to ALL, from tiny, tiny onwards…

Filed under: dances, finding norway, flying, love, pigeons, Uncategorized

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Filed under: children's illustration, flying, moon, pigeons, songs

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These are taken from an interview with the amazing Zoe Toft

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Children have so little freedom. Freedom beckons, but is also frightening. Perhaps this is why I loved reading so much when I was a child. From the safety of an armchair in the front room or beneath the covers of my bed, I could escape safely.

When I was seven I loved books in which magical items transported children directly from the security of home into another world - stories like Enid Blyton’s The Wishing Chair, in which an old chair intermittently grew wings and carried the children off on fantastical adventures. There was also Nesbit’s Phoenix and the Carpet, in which an old rug turns out to be a magic carpet - and let’s not forget  that wonderful flying bed in Bedknobs and Broomsticks - or The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, in which an old wardrobe provides the portal to freedom.

Part of the excitement lay in the fact that the children never quite knew when their adventure might take place. Nesbitt’s children always had to wait until their parents were out – and Blyton’s children had to keep going down to the playroom to see if the chair had grown wings. The appeal also lay in the fact that there was always the risk of mishap - along with the assumption that the children would return home safely.

When my friend’s daughter Elinor told me about a dream in which her bedroom flew, I was delighted. What a wonderful symbol her unconscious had conjured up to grant her both security and freedom! She could go wherever she wanted without leaving the safety of her bedroom – and what’s more, she would have everything she needed with her: a raincoat, a book to read, a sunhat or a swimsuit …


So, inspired by Elinor’s dream, I wrote The Flying Bedroom, a series of short adventures in which Elinor’s bedroom takes her to faraway places including a tropical island (from which her bedroom nearly floats away), the theatre (where Elinor reluctantly takes centre stage), and even to the moon (where Elinor helps a man called Niall fix his rocket). I’m hoping that The Flying Bedroom will satisfy children’s longing for both security and freedom – the tension that never really goes away, no matter how old we are.



You can find more information about Heather Dyer and her books at www.heatherdyer.co.uk

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Red Squirrel, a new imprint from Barrington Stoke, is dedicated to creating exciting picture books.

Fair Enough.

But what makes them sit especially tall on the bookshelf is that as well as superb storytelling and inventive illustrations, these picture books contain lots of dyslexia friendly features so that grown-ups with dyslexia can also experience the joy of reading aloud to the kids in their lives.

One of their first offerings, All I said Was, written by former children’s laureate, Michael Morpurgo and illustrated by Ross Collins is a cautionary tale about the dangers of wish fulfilment.

Have you ever been reading a book and then fallen into a reverie imagining yourself as the character you’re reading about?

This is exactly what happens in All I said Was, and as a consequence – with the help of just a little magic, a boy and a bird swap places.

The boy-turned-bird is delighted. “This flying lark is amazing. I wan to to be a bird all my life.”

The bird-turned-boy is also pleased as punch: He discovers the joy of being able to read.

But is bird-life really all it’s cracked up to be? And can the magic ever be undone?

A quietly funny celebration of the power of a good book to transport us anywhere – safely – this is lovely story, told clearly and concisely. Its theme makes it particulars appropriate for opening a new venture which will hopefully enable more families to enjoy more stories.

Collins’ characterization and visual humour are especially strong (I particularly like his farmer and pigs). The illustrator also has the final say with a brilliant twist in the tale once Morpurgo’s words are complete. It’s a brilliantly satisfying, slightly naughty and rather funny end to a super book.

This is a book that could be enjoyed for so may different reasons – whether you’re looking for a prime example of illustrations doing so much to enrich a written text, a book celebrating how books can bring our imagination to life, or simply a funny story to share at bedtime – whether or not you yourself sometimes struggle with the written word.

All I can say is: Hurrah for Red Squirrel and their broadening of what it means for picture books to be inclusive.

Both M and J said they too would love to experience flying like a bird. The nearest I could offer them was the joy of flying…. a kite, made to look like a bird. Ah well, us parents, we can only try our best

We cut out very rough bird shapes from old plastic bags which we decorated with permanent pens. Once the feathers, beaks and eyes were in place we attached thin doweling to our birds. I used this commercial product as a starting point, cross referencing it with these instructions for making a diamond kite to come up with All-I-Said-Was-Kites Mark 1.

We each made one kite and then imagined us swapping places with the birds as we flew them.

Additional activities which could work well alongside reading All I said Was include:

Reading another be-careful-what-you-wish-for tale, for example, The Fish who could Wish by John Bush, illustrated by Korky Paul.

Making a set of beautiful paper wings like we did here, when reading Flyaway Katie by Polly Dunbar.

Chasing pigeons. I don’t know a child who doesn’t love chasing pigeons!

Photo: Owen Jell

Music that goes well with All I said Was and the playing it induced in us includes:

Let’s Go Fly a Kite – from the film of Mary Poppins

Keep The Park Clean For The Pigeons – from Sesame Stree

Come Fly With Me by Frank Sinatra

If you could swap places with a character in a children’s book, which character would you swap places with (bearing in mind whoever you swapped with would take your place in your family/classroom/library….)?

Disclosure: I received a free review copy of All I said Was from the publisher.

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