Let�’s Beanimals

£4.50      Spring  2012       Isuue  1

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Editors

Illustrators

Animals

Georgia Weaving / Katie Lansdowne / Char Craven

Katie Lansdowne / Georgia Weaving / Amelie Whittingham / Daisy Harman /

Lauren Williams/ Char Craven

Frank / Norman / Poppy / Tess / Phil / Kevin / Florence / Oscar / Pat / Tommy &

Friends / Lula / Shanique / Sally / Simon / Richard the rat / Flo / Family of mice /

Cassie / James / Henry / Dandelion / Burdock

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Contents

Pretty  things

Voxpop

Lets  follow  a  cat

Hedgehog  party

Guinea  pig  hotel

Stories  from  home

James  in  blue  and  red

The  snail  that  snored

Lula’s  eggy  recipes

Dogs  at  the  car  boot

Springtime  seagulls

Dreams

Revolting  Rhymes

Mice  in  the  fridge

Flo’s  symphony

Activities

Cat  personalities

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prettypretty prettypretty prettypretty prettyprettyO6 p r e t t y

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thingsthingsthingsthingsthingsthingsthingsthingspretty O7t h i n g sphotographs by Katie

if i could change one thing...

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Tess

Phil

I   would   not   be   in   a  picture   with   this  crazy  animal

I   would   be   the  King   of   England.. .look  at  my  wave..this  is  my  wave

�“I�”

�“I�”

Florence

�“ I�”I  would  be  able  to  smile.  You  just  know  I’d  have  such  good  teeth

Oscar I  wouldn’t  have  such  bad  hair.   Whatever   I   do   -  comb   it,   gel   it,   blow-dry  it. .nothing  works!  Is  that  really  vain?

�“I�”

PatI   would   make   the   world   sunny  every  day  -  I  love  sunbathing�“ I�”

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All  Im

ages,  editors  own/sxc.hu

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Let�’sfol low a cat

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We never really own cats. I f they choose to l ive in our homes and eat our food then that may only

be a temporary choice. The cat is a mysterious creature that wil l never really trust you. We can

never really know what i t is thinking, what i t wants or where i t goes when it leaves the house at night.

My cat used to come home as the sky was gett ing l ight. I would come down to f ind him prowling the

hall with his huge night eyes on and a fresh cut on his head. I never fol lowed my cat and I always

wondered where he went with those wary eyes, out into the darkness to f ind adventure.

On  a  Tuesday,   I   saw  a   cat.   It  was  sitting   a  wall   slowly  washing   its   paw.   Lick,   l ick,   l ick.   It   turned  slowly   and   looked   at  me  as   I   stood  watching   it.  We  made  eye   contact,   it   studied  me   lazily   for  a   moment   and   resumed   its   licking.   On   a  Wednesday,   I   saw   the   cat   again.   It   was   sat   on   the  pavement  flicking  its  tail  angrily.   It   looked  at  me  again.  There  was  no  study  in   its  gaze  this  time,  only   disdain.   It   looked   away   quickly   and   flitted   away   behind   some   overgrown   railings.   I   stood,  transfixed   for  a  moment  before  walking  quickly   forward  and  opened  a  gate   further  down  the  fence.   I   found  myself   in  someone’s  garden.   I   hadn’t   realised   from   the  road  because   it  was  so  overgrown.   I  wavered  for  a  moment,  the  word  trespassing  flashing  through  my  mind.  The  cat  had  paused  next  to  an  overturned  garden  chair.   It  dipped  its  head  into  a  puddle  and  lapped  one,  two  three  times  before  shaking  its  head.  Drips  slid  down  its  whiskers  and  disappeared  into  the  air.  Quickly,  it  moved,  slinking  off  through  the  fence  at  the  back  of  the  garden.  With  no  hesitation  this   time,   I   followed.   Slightly   crouched   I   ran   quietly   through   the   foliage,   hopping   over   rusting  bikes,  dog  toys  and  crushed  cans.   I  saw  the  cat   in  the  distance  as   it  slunk  down  the  street  and  panicked.  There  was  no  gate  on   this  side.  Without   thinking,   I   found  myself   grasping   the   fence  and   pulling  myself   up.   Flakes   of   rust   and   old   paint   crumbled   in  my   palms.  With   one   foot   up   I  

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over here, under there

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hopped  down  onto  the  hard  ground.  The  balls  of  my  feet  throbbed  through  my  thin  shoes.  Then,  I   was   running   -   not   sprinting,   but   definitely   not  walking   -   in   the   direction   of   the   cat.   I   turned   a  corner  at  the  end  of  the  road  and  saw  it.  It  had  stopped  outside  a  church  for  a  moment.  Quietly,  I   edged  closer  until  my  back  was  against   the  stone  wall  of   the  old  building  with   the  cat  around  the  corner.  Two  old  women  walked  past  with  tartan  shopping  trolleys.  The  wheels  clattered  on  the  tarmac  and  I  worried  it  would  startle  the  cat.   It   looked  round  at  them  for  a  moment  before  following   the  wall   of   the   church  and  disappearing  over  a   low  wooden   fence.   I   peered  over   the  slats.   It  was  a  small   vegetable  patch  where   tomatoes  climbed   faded  poles  and  green  sprouts  burst   from   the   til led  soil .  Bags  of  soil   leant  up  against   the  side  of   the   fence.  A  small   shed   that  backed  the  church  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  garden.  The  door  gaped  open,  plant  pots  and  sacking  lined  the  ground  in  the  doorway.  The  cat  was  sat  on  them  and  had  begun  the  slow  and  precise  movement  of  washing.  Lick,   l ick,   l ick.   I  watched  it  for  a  while  before  admitting  defeat.  The  fence  was  too  high  to  climb  and  it  was  getting  dark.  As  I  was  turning  away  the  cat  flicked  its  eyes  at  me  for  a  moment  before  resuming   its  task.   I  walked  home  and  wondered  where   it  had  gone  next.  As  I  walked  home  I  thought  about  where  it  was  going  to  sleep  at  night  and  where  it  l ived.  When  I  got  home  I  wondered  who  fed  it.  On  a  Thursday,  I  bought  some  tuna  and  went  looking  for  a  cat.

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There’s  nothing  quite  like  the  excitement  of  waking  up  at   the  crack  of  dawn  to  go  on   an   adventure.  The   alarm  was  set   to  6.00am,  but  the  hedgehogs  had  already  been   awake   for   an   hour   before   Andy  finally  arose  from  his  deep  slumber.  It   was   time   to   pack   the   car.   Andy’s  parents  had  specifically   told  him  and  his  little   brother   and   sister   that   they   were  only   allowed   to   bring   with   them   five  toys   each   -   but   Andy   had   other   plans.  Whilst   his   Mum   and   Dad   were   busy  packing  their  journey  snack-boxes,  Andy  sneaked  out  to  the  car  and  began  placing  all  of  his  thirty  hedgehogs  atop  the  rear  window   ledge,   one  by  one,   allowing  each  hedgehog  a  great  view  out  in  preparation  for  the  two-and-a-half  hour  journey  that  they  were  soon  to  embark  on.    When   his   parent’s   saw   the   array   of  hedgehogs   neatly   lined   up   in   rows   and  rows,   they   couldn’t   help   but   chuckle   at  the   sight.   It   certainly   would   lighten   the  moods  of  any  cranky  commuters  on  the  

on adventuresHedgehogs

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motorway,  they  thought.  And  so,  the  rule  for  only  five  toys  was  lifted.  However,   Andy’s   little   sister   Katie   was  not  at  all  happy  about   the  arrangement.  The  hedgehogs  were  taking  up  precious  toy   space.   If   she   were   allowed   more  than   five   toys,   it  was  only   right   that  she  had  a  third  of  the  ledge  space.  Little   Katie’s   temper   rose   more   and  more,   her   voice   gradually   becoming  louder   and   louder   in   her   absolute  indignation   at   the   situation.   Urged   on  by   haste   and   fury,   she   reached   inside  the   car   and   grabbed   Andy’s   favourite  hedgehog,   Tommy   -   who   was   also   the  biggest   hedgehog   among   them   -   and  kicked  him  into  the  flower  beds.  Upon   realising   what   she   had   just   done,  Katie   began   to   sob   uncontrollably.  Tommy  was  not  only  Andy’s   favourite   -  he   was   like   one   of   the   family,   and   was  dear  to  all  of  their  hearts.  Katie  carefully  lifted   Tommy   out   of   the   flowers   and  brushed  his  fur  with  her  delicate  fingers  before  hugging  him  close.  She  hoped  and  prayed   that   he   would   forgive   her   for  her   horrid   actions,   and   vowed   never   to  harm  poor  Tommy  ever  again.

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words and i l lustrations by Georgia with help from Dandelion and Burdock

Guinea pig hotelDandelion  and  Burdock  packed  up  their  troubles  and  went  away  for  a  week   in   the  country.  They  chose  not   to  go  abroad  because  Burdock  gets  a  funny  tummy  if  he  eats  anything  unusual,  and  Dandelion  really  doesn’t  care  for  flying  or  travelling  by  sea.  Burdock  had  packed  some  treats   from   home   just   in   case   the   food   there   wasn’t   to   his   taste,  something   that  he  had  been  worrying  about  ever  since   they  booked  the  trip.  Dandelion  thought   it  was  nonsense  and  said   that  part  of   the  fun   of   going   away   was   trying   something   new.   Burdock   mumbled  under  his  breath  that  they  could  try  new  things  if  they  were  to  travel  any  more   than   half   an   hour   down   the   road.   Truth   is,   this   is   exactly  how  far  they  were  travelling.  Dandelion  had  booked  them  a  suite  at  a  charming  guinea  pig   hotel   called   PiggieWiggies   in   a   small   vil lage   that  was   comfortably   close   to   home,   but   stil l   far   enough   that   they   could  get  some  country  air.

The   guinea   pig   hotel   catered   to   all   sorts   of   guinea   pigs   and   each  suite   was   delightfully   named.   Dandelion   and   Burdock   were   to   stay  in   the   Mint   Mansion,   although   this   had   been   a   close   call   -   Dandelion  had   been   tempted   by   the   Parsley   Palace,  which   just   so   happened   to  be  Burdock’s   favourite   snack.   But,   in   the   spirit   of   adventure,   he   had  booked  the  Mint  Mansion  and  was  feeling  ever  so  reckless  about  it  all .

They   arrived   at   the   hotel   on   a   misty   morning   and   tipped   the   taxi  driver  for  being  so  patient  with  Dandelion’s  constant  requests  for  him  to   slow   down,   as   well   as   Burdock’s   complaints   that   the  music   was  

far   too   loud.  They  were  welcomed   into   the  hotel   by  a   very  gracious  host   and   relaxed   into   their   fabulous   suite   on   the   fifth   floor.   Burdock  relaxed   considerably   when   he   saw   the   menu   included   a   parsley  special.   They   spent   a   lovely   week   relaxing   in   their   room,   taking   in  the   air,   the   grounds,   and   chatting   away   to   other   holidaying   guinea  pigs.  They  both  agreed   that  next   year   they  would   return,   and  might  even   consider   staying   in   the   Carrot   Croft   if   Dandelion   was   feeling  particularly  spontaneous.

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Stories from homeWords by Frank, with help from CharI   l ive   in  a   little  house  with  my  human  sister  Lucy  and  mum  Helen.  Being  the  only  pet,  I ’m  always   the  centre  of  attention  and   love  getting   into  mischief.   I ’m  very  energetic  and  like  going  on  lots  of  walks  around  the  Yorkshire  countryside.  I ’m  only  a  little  dog,  but  I  can  walk  for  hours  without  getting  tired,  so  I  usually  go  out  two  or  three  times  a  day.  My  favourite  place  is  the  canal.  I  see  lots  of  ducks  swimming  around  and  I  l ike  to  bark  at  them  until  mum  tells  me  to  stop.  

I  spend  the  rest  of  my  time  pottering  around  the  house  and  sitting  in  the  windowsill .  I  see  so  much  there  –  other  dogs  passing  by  with  their  owners,  children  walking  home  from  school,  but  the  best  of  all  are  the  motorbikes.  The  noise  makes  me  jump  a  little  bit,  but  I  get  very  excited  when  I  hear  it  because  it  means  that  one  is  on  its  way.

In   the   evening,   I   wait   patiently   for  my   favourite   time   of   the   day.   As   soon   as   I   hear  biscuits  clashing  into  my  bowl  I  know  it’s  time.  Mixed  in  with  delicious  meat  and  gravy,  I  eat   it  so  fast  that   it  ends  up  all  over  my  face.   It’s  always  a  race  to   lick   it  off  before  mum  comes  to  clean  me  up.

After   that,   I   settle   down   and   curl   up   on   the   sofa.   I   push   pillows   around   until   I   find  a   comfy   position,   and   get   ready   for   my   favourite   television   programme.   As   the  Coronation   Street   theme   tune   plays,   my   ears   prick   up   and   I   stare   blankly   at   the  screen.  I  don’t  know  why  I  l ike  it  but  I  do.  

I  paw  the  kitchen  door  open  to  crawl   into  bed.  Waking  up  to  a  new  day,   I’m  ready  to  cause  more  mischief  and  eat  more  scrummy  food.  

All  Im

ages,  editors  own

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I   came   to   live  with   the  Woolford   family   a   couple   of   years   ago  because  I  was  getting  tired  of   living  at  busy  stables  with   lots  of  other  horses.  I’m  getting  older  now  and  just  like  the  company  of  my  little  friend  Monarch  the  Shetland  pony.    

I   sleep   in   a   cosy   stable   in   the   family   garden   with   Monarch  snuggled  up  next  door.  I  can  hear  the  chickens  clucking  sleepily  in  their  coop  outside.  When  it  get’s  cold,  I  wear  my  coat  and  Mrs  

Words by Norman, with help from Georgia

Woolford  takes  me  out  to  the  field  to  graze.  In  the  winter,  it  is  misty  and  I  can  smell  cooking  from  the  houses  in  the  village.  In  the  autumn  there  are  always  bonfires  burning  and  the  smoke  drifts  up  into  the  air  while  the  leaves  crunch  under  my  hooves.  Spring  is  warmer  and  I  don’t  need  my  coat  anymore.  

I   run  around  my   field  and  eat   the   fresh  new  grass  covered  with  dew   in   the  morning.   I  get  up  even  earlier  in  the  summer  because  I  want  to  go  out  and  see  the  sun,  Mrs  Woolford  comes  and  gets  me  up  and  leads  me  down  the  lane  to  my  field  where  I  roll  around  and  enjoy  the  warmth  on  my  back.   I  go  out  for  rides  once  a  week,  we  run  down  the  and  all  the  way  to  the  big  park  where  I  see  other  horses.  When  I  come  home  I  am  always  hungry,   I  eat   in  my  little  house.   I  know  it’s  dinnertime  when   I  hear  the  creak  of  the  door  of  the  shed  where  it’s  kept.  The  smell  of  fresh  hay  and  oats  gets  closer  and  closer  and  I  get  very  excited  about  my  tasty  food.  Sometimes  my  owner  will  try  and  give  me  a  brush  while  I’m  eating  but  I  get  very  grumpy  and  just  want  to  focus  on  my  dinner  so  I  tell  her  to  go  away  because  it’s  dinner  time  now.

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My  name  is  Poppy  and  I’m  the  boss  of  the  house.   I   l ive   inside,   just  because  I  can.   I  even  have  my   own   en-suite   room.  Well,   I   did   have   a  whole   flat   to  myself   until   an   intruder  called  Blackberry  came  and  cluttered  up  the  place.  I  had  to  share  my  room  with  her  for  a  while  but  luckily  for  me,  she’s  now  out  of  my  sight  in  her  own  cage  around  the  corner.

Blackberry   is   the  most   untidy   bunny   I   ever   have  met,   and   she   is   so   very   immature!  She  also  pokes  fun  at  my  size,  calling  me  fat.  I  say  I’d  rather  be  fat  than  a  dwarf,  and  at  least   I  can  hop  and  skip  outside  without  getting  shiveringly  cold.  Such  a  silly   little  bunny  is  Blackberry.

When  Mum  and  Dad  are  home  I’m  allowed  to  escape  and  roam  the  house.  This  is  my  special  time  because  it  means  I  can  run  away  from  Blackberry,  and  her  tiny   little   legs  can  never  catch  up  with  mine.

My  favourite  things  at  the  moment  are  cardboard  boxes.  Mum  and  Dad  bring  them  in  all  kinds  of  shapes  and  sizes,  sometimes  I  even  have  a  brand  new  one  every  day.  I  get  in  ever  such  terrible  moods,  especially  now  I’m  having  to  share  my  flat  with  Blackberry,  and  sometimes  I  can  tear  the  cardboard  to  shreds  in  a  matter  of  seconds.

Dad   sometimes   records   me   on   his   camcorder   whilst   I’m   busy   playing   with   my  cardboard  box.  Depending  on  my  mood,   I  might  get   funny  about   this,  but  usually   I   l ike  the  attention  (especially  when  Blackberry  is  lost  somewhere  around  the  house).

The  best  feeling  in  the  world  is  when  Mum  and  Dad  stroke  the  bridge  of  my  nose  and  the  little  fluffy  bit  just  behind  my  neck.  I  am  a  lucky  Bunny,  really,  but  I  just  simply  can  not  get  on  with  Blackberry!  I  don’t  think  Mum  likes  her  very  much,  either,  so  she  might  not  be  here  for  much  longer.

Words by Poppy, with help from Katie

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James wears vintage silk tie

James wears vintage 80�’s shirt

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James in blue and redphotography by Georgia

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James wears vintage scarf

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James wears vintage denim and scarf

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The snoredthatsnail

There once was a snail called Kevin. He l iked doing what snails do best �– sl iding around, cleaning his shell and collecting pennies. Unusually, he was most known for his sleeping habits -­ cuddling up every night in the hole of a bagel, and snoring so loudly that only a bunch of ants could stand the noise. Everyone else had moved away from him, but the ants had a better plan.

Zzzzzz

zzzzzz

zzz

Kevin

All  Images,  sxc.hu  (edited  by  Char)

www.letsbe.co.uk

27

One  crisp  dewy  morning,  all  was  calm  whilst  Kevin  snoozed  away  in  his  fluffy   bagel,   until   a   sudden  movement   awaked   him.   Looking   down   he  realised  it  was  his  neighbouring  ants,  all  working  together  to  move  the  bagel  from  the  ground.  Seeing  a  startled  Kevin,  one  ant  exclaimed:  “We  just  can’t  take  your  snoring  any  longer!”

Although   he  was   upset,   Kevin   had   expected   it,   having   been   uprooted  to   different   parts   of   the   town  all   his   life.   His   snores  were   something  he  couldn’t  control,  and  something  everyone  he’d  ever  known  couldn’t  stand  for  long.  He’s  tried  everything  he  could  think  of,  all  the  old  tricks  that   are  said   to   banish   the   curse   –   swallowing  cat  whiskers,   jumping  off  sunflowers  and  shouting  at  human  children.  None  of  it  had  worked,  and  no  one  understood  that  it  just  wasn’t  his  fault.  

Time   passed   and   Kevin   woke   to   the   sun   rising,   stil l   bumping   up   and  down   on   his   moving   bagel.   His   eyes   blurred   after   the   long   night  travelling,   he   could   just   about   make   out   a   sign   reading   SKIP   CITY.  Being   passed   through   the   breadstick   gates,   he  was  apprehensive   of  what  was  ahead  –  although  he’d  moved  around  a  lot  over  the  past  few  years,  every  place  seemed  scarier  than  the   last.  This  one  was  a   little  bit  smelly  and  extremely  overcrowded.  

All   of   a   sudden   he   was   grounded   to   a   halt   by   a   big   burly   cockroach  holding   papers   in   his   arms   –   “There’s   a   space   for   the   bagel   over  there,   just   next   to   the   rusty   nails”   he   said   as   he   shuffled   the   papers.  Kevin  had  no  choice  but  to  accept  the  space,  and  the  ants  pushed  him  towards  his  final  destination.    On  his  way,  stil l  bobbling  along,  he  noticed  another  snail   snoring  much   louder   than  Kevin  ever  could.  He’d  never  met   another   snorer,   never   mind   a   snail   snorer   just   like   him.   Then,  something  he’d  been  dreaming  of  for  many  years  –  a  sign  reading:  

He   suddenly   felt   something   that   he’d   never   felt   before,   a   feeling   of  happiness  and  acceptance.  This  in  mind,  Kevin  snored  the  night  away  and   had   the   most   comfortable   sleep   he   could   ever   think   possible.  Kevin   was   the   happiest   he’d   ever   been   –   comfortable   in   his   beloved  bagel  and  amongst  other  snoring  snails,  he  could  now  sleep  easy  for  the  rest  of  his  life.

�“SNORING WELCOME�”

arghhhh!

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28

Eggy

Farmhouse Pizza Omelette: a healthy lunch on the go

2  Eggs85g  Chopped  Tomato25g  Mushroom20g  MozzarellaOne  slice  of  lean  hamChivesSalt  and  pepper

(prep:  5  mins,  cook:  5  mins.  One  serving)

‘Break   the   eggs   into   a   jug   and   beat   with   a  fork.  Pour   into  a  hot   frying  pan,   then  pull   the  mixture   away   from   sides   with   a   spatula..  When   the   top   is   nearly   set,   add   chopped  tomatoes,   sliced   mushrooms   and   ham.Sprinkle   the   mozzarella   and   flavour   with  chives,  salt  and  pepper.  Place  the  pan  under  a  hot  grill  until  the  cheese  bubbles.  Now  quickly  gobble  it  up  before  it  gets  cold.! ’

Recipes Lula�’s

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Vegetarian Pea Pâté:

Lula�’s favouri te toast topper

‘Place  egg  in  a  small  saucepan,  and  cover  with   cold   water.   Bring   water   to   the   boil,  and   immediately   remove   from   heat.  Cover,   and   let   egg   stand   in   hot   water  for   10  to   12  minutes.  Remove  from  hot  water,  cool,  peel  and  chop.  Heat  oil   in  a  

frying  pan  over  a  low  heat,  and  add  chopped  onion.   Cook,   stirring   occasionally,   until   brown  and  tender.  Add  chopped  garlic,  and  sauté  for  1   to   2  minutes.   Remove   the  mixture   from   the  frying   pan,   and   set   aside   to   cool. .   In   a   blender  or   food   processor,   finely   chop   crackers   and  walnuts.   Mix   in   the   pea   and   onion   mixture.  Add   the  egg,   and  blend   to  a   fine  paste,   adding  water   or   oil   if   necessary   to   attain   desired  consistency.  Season  with  salt  and  pepper.’

1  Egg3  tbsp  Olive  Oil1  large  Onion,  chopped2  Cloves  Garlic,  chopped20  Thin  wheat  crackers50g  (2  oz)  Walnuts400g  Tinned  Petits  Pois,  drainedSalt  and  freshly  ground  black  pepper  to  taste

(prep:  15  mins,  cook:  15  mins.  12  servings)

Melting Moments:

a sugary treat on the l ips

1  Egg75g  Caster  sugar95g  Margarine125g  Self-raising  flourCrushed  Cornflakes

‘Cream   together   the   sugar   and  margarine.  Fold   the   egg   into   the  mixture   and   gradually  add   the   flour.   Roll   into   balls   and   drop   into   a  bowl   of   crushed   Cornflakes.   Lay   the   balls  evenly   onto   a   greased   baking   tray   some  distance  apart  to  allow  the  biscuits  to  spread.  Cook  until  golden  brown.  All   the  better  eaten  whilst   warm   with   a   nice   cup   of   English  Breakfast.’

(prep:  15  mins,  cook:  15-20  mins.  10  servings)

by Katie

www.letsbe.co.uk

Dogs at car boot salesphotography and words by Georgia

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31

It’s  spring.  The  British  car  boot   is  back   in   full   swing.  Sellers  and  buyers  flock  to  chilly  fields  to  hunt  a  bargain  and  get  rid  of  their  rubbish.  Despite  the  early  hour  and  the  nip  in  the  air,  the  burger  van  serving  greasy  meals  and  alcohol  is  not  short  of  business.  An  assortment  of  people  who  would  not   be   seen   together   in   any   other   environment   mill   about,   exchanging  opinions  and  haggling  to  the  last  penny.  Look  to  the  feet  of  these  Sunday  traders   and   you  will   find   a  whole  world   of   animal   politics.   Big   dogs,   little  dogs,  happy  dogs  and  grumpy  dogs  are  all  brought  along  to  this  weekly  event  so  close  to  Britain’s  heart,  and  are  far  more   interesting  to  watch  than  the  people  who  pull  their  leads.

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34 springtime

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seagulls 35

photographs  by  Katie

36

I dreamed of animals

At  first  it’s  darkness,  with  only  the  sound  of  swishing  water  indicating  where   I   could   possibly   be.   As   my   surroundings   start   to   become  clear,   I   realise   that   I’m  stood   in   front  of   the  sea   –  a  sea  contained   in  a  gigantic  swimming  pool.  As   I  make  my  approach,   the  sky   lights  up  with  orange  and  yellow  colours  beaming   from  the  sun.  Straining  my  eyes,  I  see  a  figure  in  the  distance.  The  figure  is  a  large  grey  elephant,  shooting   water   from   its   trunk   onto   its   blazing   hot   skin.   At   a   closer  look,   I   see   a  man  on   the   elephant’s   back,   basking   in   the  water   from  its   trunk   and   dancing   around   in   bare   feet.   In   his   hand,   a   saxophone,  blaring  sweet  music   into  my  ears.   I  climb   into  the  water  -  warm  and  calm,  just  like  a  bath.  I  feel  a  school  of  brightly  coloured  fish  rush  past  me,  and  see  them  jumping  in  the  air  with  delight.  Following  the  music,  they   head   towards   the   elephant,   and   I   decide   to   follow.  Wading  my  way   through   the  water,   the  music   is   getting   louder,   and   the  man   is  now   surrounded   by   hundreds   of   fish   grooving   to   his   beats.   I   finally  get  close,  and  the  ginormous  elephant  begins  to  move  away  towards  the  sunset.   I  can’t  keep  up  and  the  water   is  getting  deeper;  the  party  gets  more  and  more  distant.  I  watch  them  -  the  fish,  the  elephant,  the  man  -  as  they  move  further  away,  leaving  a  trail  of  water-ripples  and  music  notes  behind  them.

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dreamt by Char

i l lustrations by Georgia and Katie

37

Last   night  my   ginger   cat  was   a   lion  who   carried  me   on   his   back   to  my   childhood   friend’s   home.   I   felt   his   thick   fur   between  my   fingers  as  we   ran   through   the   house   and   to   the   garden  where  we   used   to  play.  The  shed  was  an  entire  city  where  chickens  clucked  and  boxes  towered   over   our   heads   in   strange   and   sinister   forms.   We   ran  through  streets  where  ghosts  from  the  weekend  film  skulked   in  the  darkness.  Suddenly,   I  am  falling   towards  the  monsters;  my  cat’s   fur  slipping  through  my  fingers  as  I  tumble  towards  the  darkness.  Then,  just   as   suddenly,   I   am   flying.   I   see   the   ginger   fur   of  my   cat   running  along   the   ground   beneath   me   as   I   get   higher   and   higher.   I   land   on  buildings   to   push   off   harder   and   keep   flying   until   when   I   land   I   can’t  push  off.   I  beat  my  wings  but   I  can  no   longer  fly.   I  see  my  cat  running  along,   he   hasn’t   stopped   and   disappears   into   the   distance.   Slowly,   I  move   to   the  edge  of   the  roof  and   launch  myself  off,   but   I   don’t   fly   -   I  float   slowly   to   the   ground.   As   I   turn   in   the   wind   I   become   caught   in  clouds,   and   feeling   the   soft   fabric   around  me,   I   roll   over   and   cuddle  my  bed  sheets  closer  to  me  while  my  ginger  cat  purrs  at  my  feet.

A   faint   buzzing   from   a   hidden   place   gently   wakes  me   from   a   deep  slumber,   Bleary-eyed,   I   l isten   as   the   sound   grows   louder   and  louder,   until   a   bumblebee   comes   flying   into   my   room   through   the  opened  window,   invited   in  by  the  sweet  scent  of  my  overnight  sweat.  Stumbling  out  of  the  room,  I  realise  that  I’m  in  my  Aunt’s  house.  Their  cat   meows   passionately,   seemingly   perturbed   by   the   noisiness  coming  from  behind.   I  walk  quicker,  noticing  that  the  bee   is  promptly  following   in   my   direction.   Did   he   not   realise   that   I   can   offer   him   no  honey   or   pollen,   that   he’d   be   better   off   outside   in   the   fresh   spring  air?   I   pick   up  a   brisk  walk   as  a   glance  backwards   indicates   that   the  bee   is  growing   larger  and   larger   in  diameter  with  every  step   I   take.  I   begin   to   panic   as  Mr   Bumble   becomes   the   size   of   a   large   balloon;  I   run   down   the   flight   of   stairs,   hoping   he   cannot   keep   up   with   me,  until   I   reach   the  sliding  exit  doors   -  which,   to  my  dismay,  are   locked.    This  is  it  now.  The  bee  is  hot  in  my  pursuit,  and  has  now  reached  the  size  of  a  short  yet   largely  obese  child.  His  circumference   is  greater  than   my   height,   and   his   beady   eyes   meet   my   own   with   horrifying  malice,   his   ugliness   astounding   me   momentarily.   Just   as   his   buzz  reaches   an   almost   unbearable   decibel,   I   lurch   into   a   falling   black  hole,   after  which   I   jolt   bolt   upright   in   the  warmth   of  my   own  bed.   I  can  hear  a   faint  clattering  coming   from  the  kitchen  downstairs,  and  my  heart  rate  slows  itself  into  a  natural  and   resting   drum-like   beat,   reassured   that  I’m   safe   from   the   monstrous   creature   that   laid  before  me  a  mere  few  seconds  ago.

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dreamt by Katiedreamt by Georgia

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40

A rather

revolting rhyme

words by Georgia and Katiei l lustations by Katie

www.letsbe.co.uk

41

Henry  the  hamster  was  bored  of  his  cage,He  wanted  to  see  the  sun  and  the  waves

So  he  wriggled  away  and  squeezed  through  the  barsNot  caring  about  his  owner’s  poor  heart,

Off  he  went  with  his  head  held  highWith  a  jolly  step  and  a  twinkling  eye.

Through  tables  and  chairs  he  ran  through  the  houseTill  he  reached  the  cat  flat  and  scrambled  on  out.

Out  in  the  sunshine  he  rolled  with  glee,So  happy  was  he  to  finally  be  free,

When  all  of  a  sudden  from  a  high  perchA  crow  swooped  down  with  a  sickening  lurch.

Henry  cried  out  ‘I  am  free  lets  be  chums!’,But  the  crow  had  other  plans  involving  his  tum.

Henry  squealed  and  ran  for  the  hedge;The  crow  was  fast,  but  Henry  had  the  edge.

Once  inside  he  found  a  wriggling  worm;Henry’s  belly  was  growling  after  his  frightening  turn,

So  he  gobbled  up  the  slithering  miteNot  hearing  his  protests  as  he  disappeared  from  sight.

His  tummy  was  full  so  he  rested  awhile,When  he  felt  a  gurgle  and  a  rush  of  bile;

This  worm  wasn’t  tasty  it  was  yucky  and  gross,He  missed  his  hamster  pellets  and  treats  the  most.

He  ran  from  the  bush  but  soon  realisedHe  was  lost  and  alone  and  it  was  dark  in  the  sky.He  ran  blindly  in  fear  til l  he  found  a  nice  spotWhere  2  little  moles  had  a  home  and  a  plot.They  welcomed  him  in  and  gave  him  some  soup;Henry  felt  better  and  warmer  to  boot,So  he  left  the  moles  with  directions  to  homeAnd  set  out  determined  and  ready  to  roam.

A  few  hours  later  he  saw  the  lightsOf  his  homely  porch;  what  a  lovely  sight!He  began  to  run  and  heard  his  owner’s  voice,He  was  so  nearly  there,  he  regretted  his  choiceTo  leave  this  morning  and  couldn’t  waitWhen  his  owner  came  out  and  opened  the  gate.She  didn’t  see  Henry  and  strode  into  the  dark,Stepping  on  Henry  and  squishing  his  heart.

His  owner  mourned  Henry  and  never  knewWhat  had  happened  until  she  scraped  her  shoeTo  clean  all  the  muck  after  a  walk  one  day,And  found  Henry’s  body  in  the  mud  and  the  hay.‘Oh,  poor  Henry,  what  have  I  done?I  was  so  heartbroken  when  I  saw  that  you’d  run,That  I  bought  another  hamster  to  fil l  your  space  -And  now  I  am  happy,  and  don’t  miss  your  face.’

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at

night

the

mice

come

out

to

play...

words   and  i l lustrations  by  Katie

www.letsbe.co.uk

43

The  clock  struck  midnight  and   the  house   was   deadly   silent.   People  upstairs   were   dreaming   dreams  of   unicorns,   clouds,   and   kittens,  lost   in   their   make-believe   world  where  all  good  outweighed  evil .  Downstairs   was   a   different   story  entirely.   The   mice   were   able   to  roam   freely   and   recklessly   about  the   spacious   kitchen   without   fear  of   reprobation.  They   feasted  upon  everything   within   their   eyesight.  Biscuits   were   laid   out   atop   the  counters   in   an   apparent   peace  offering   by   the   humans.   The  mice   with   a   penchant   for   sugary  goodness  gobbled   up   the   treats   in  a  matter  of  seconds.  Between   a   few   of   the   strongest  mice,   a   heavy   door   was   opened  leading   into   a  melting   (or   freezing,  rather)  pot  of  gold.  It  was  extremely  cold  inside,  yet  full  of  the  weird  and  wonderfulness   that   the   human’s  must  feed  their  bodies  with..  This   newly   found   room   held  

everything   a   little   mouse   could  ever  wish  for.  There  laid  sausages,  and   cheeses,   and   everything   else  in-between.   The   teenage   mice  partied   the   night   away,   boogying  until   their   tiny   legs   began   to   ache.  The  younger  mice  played  amongst  their   new   toys,   and   on   the   ground  floor,   some   of   the   more   hungry  members   of   the   family   sat  themselves   down   to   a   satisfyingly  large  banquet  of  cheese.  The   family   of   mice   were   having  the   time  of   their   lives,  but   their   joy  was   soon   to   be   shattered   at   the  noise   of   tugging   at   the   opening   to  their   temporary   abode.   In   came  the  most  gigantic  rat  they  had  ever  had   the   misfortune   to   behold,   a  rat   whose   expression   suggested  rage,   and   fervour,   and   a   healthy  appetite  all  in  one.  The   poor   mice   should’ve   known  that  this  was  all  too  good  to  be  true  -  Oh!  What  an  unfortunate  end  to  a  delightful  night!  

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44

Flo�’s symphony words and i l lustration by Georgia, music by Flo

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45

Flo  wrote  a  song.  She  played  it  on  the  family  piano  and  was  urged  on  with  treats  and  cuddles.  She  revelled  in  the  attention.  What  she  created  wasn’t  beautiful  or  a  masterpiece,  but  it  was  real  and  it  was  fun.  Flo  is  getting  on   in  years  but  stil l  plays   like  a  kitten.  Her   joints  are  stiff  and  her  eyes  are  dull  but  she  stil l   loves  to  play  on  the  big  dusty  piano  in  the  living  room.  She  slept  well  that  night  in  her  little  bed  in  the  hall  where  a  flowery  cushion  squashes  up  all  around  her.

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46

C  BTIGEROUNTS

DAZRQULTYEMH

ERTYUIOPALSA

IRANYLGORFMP

TSOIKZMLCIJR

PENRZEBRAANT

APBALTJXLTQC

YMONKEYLUNEM

SLPEOEIRGASX

KIEHRCVQDPCK

UOLAZPBUEHAV

DFBEARGHBEKR

DOFLIPQUASVB

NHOPGHYDBKQG

HAMSTERARTPI

AntBearCaterpillarCrabElephantFrogHamsterHorseMonkeyParrotRhinoSharkSnakeTigerZebra

ActivitiesFind  these  words

There’s  five  to  get.. .

21

35

343332

31

3029

28

2726

25

2423

2221

2019

18

17

1615

14

13 12

11

109

8

76 5

4

3

Join the dots

Spot the difference

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47

Illustrations  by  Char

cats and their many

personalities

guilty  cat

sleepy  cat

deflated  cat

playful  cat

scared  

cat

curious  

cat

angry  cat

confused  cat

lonely  cat

supercat

static  cat

intellectual  cat

poorly    

cat