Typist’s Tales (1)


In order to coax Xavier to eat he devised a quaint plan.

Xavier being extremely rare, would eat very little but cheese from the frigidaire – and lasagne, once in a while. It was no simple task to extend the range of comestibles he’d consume. He also enjoyed annoying those who coaxed him: it was worth almost starving to see a face turn puce.

But Basil, his brother, was cunning. He cut the cheese in pieces, injecting carrot and cress into cavities. Lifting the lasagne, he mixed in marmalade and minute amounts of spinach. Xavier – blissed out after eating gorgonzola from morning to evening – was none the wiser.

bear wedding

Kathy and Kirsty kept kicking each other as they walked.

Father marched on ahead with his black and yellow umbrella; the stuffed bear balanced, barely, on the handlebars of his bicycle.

Must we attend every auction?” whined Kirsty. “It’s wearisome. And where are we going to put the beastly bear – at the top of the stair?”

“We cannot,” said Kathy. “The gnu and the digeridoo are already there.”

Mother, moping at the rear, refrained from remark, except to utter: “Stop all that kicking, Kirsty! You and Kathy will be black and blue by tonight.

Kathy, you too.”


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