It just lies behind the slightly more normal things I do do. This sense that most people are crazy, if you look deep enough. Adults particularly, and children have to deal with them.
The Puck, who was rushing behind the horde, yelling at them to grab Aidan and kill Rolf, was Mr. Stock's first victim. The marrow caught him THOCK! on the side of the head. It laid the Puck out cold on the grass, but the mighty vegetable remained intact, mottled and glossy.
But I do think that when people say 'a learning curve,' they make a mistake. Learning to me always seems to go in a straight, ignorant line and then, every so often, takes a jump straight upward.
The melons were small and self-seeded, but all the same, you cannot *imagine* the effect an elephant has on a field of melons. There is the most incredible squelching and bursting.
A book for children, like the myths and folktales that tend to slide into it, is really a blueprint for dealing with life. For that reason, it might have a happy ending, because nobody ever solved a problem while believing it was hopeless.
She stood with her nose up, sniffing delightedly. It was the delicious mildewy fragrance of old books. Hundreds of them, she saw, looking round the room. Books were lined up on shelves on all four walls, stacked on the floor, and piled on the desk.
Sophie said a bad word. In the dim light she had stubbed her toe on one of the many dusty bricks piled around the place. "Naughty-naughty" Twinkle said. "Oh shut up!" Sophie said , standing on one leg to hold her toe. "Why don't you grow up?"
He didn't exactly stamp his foot or even yell particularly, but the way he said it was doing both these things, and I somehow understood that Will was his elder brother and had had *years* of experience in winding Rupert up.
"Oh lord!" Christopher groaned, too weary to be polite. "Can't someone help me at all? I've learned my lesson." "What gave you the idea there was only one lesson to learn?" bawled Dr. Pawson.