Timbertwig & the Caravan of Surprises

#####Timbertwig & the Caravan of Surprises

In the little house in the old oak tree, Granny Knot woke one morning with a terrible cold. “Timber.. Timb..ti. .. Tishoo!” she sneezed.

“Is something wrong?” asked Timbertwig, coming into the bedroom.

“I’ve got an awful cold,” she moaned. “Pass me my handkerchief. It’s hanging up behind the door.”

“What, this thing? I thought it was a sheet,” sniggered Timbertwig as he took down the enormous hankie.

“Don’t be so cheeky!” snapped Granny. “You’ll have to go to market for me today. I’m much too ill. Look, I’ve written down a shopping list.”

“Leave it to me,” said Timbertwig proudly, and he put on his hat-the hat

where Abigail the magic spider lived. As they set off, Granny Knot blew her enormous nose. And all the trees in Wiggly Wood shook at the terrible noise.

Soon Timbertwig and Abigail reached the edge of the wood. And there, on the common, was the travelling market.

They loved the market. It was always full of such strange, interesting people.

Timbertwig wandered past a fortune-teller, a magician who did tricks with balloons, and an old lady who knitted string vests. The end stall belonged to Doc Leaf, the quack doctor.

“Roll up, roll up!” he shouted. “Buy a bottle of Baldy Brew and your hair will grow as thick as grass on a lawn. It’s the eighth wonder of the world. And cheap at half the price!”

“Excuse me,” said Timbertwig. “My Granny’s got a rotten cold. Do you have something to cure it?”

“I certainly have, laddie,” lied Doc Leaf. “I’ve got just what you need inside my tent.” Of course, Doc Leat had no such thing just hundreds of jars of Baldy Brew.

He ripped off one of the labels and wrote a new one: QUICKY COLD CURE. “Now you take this home and let your Granny sniff it.” But whatever you do, laddie, don’t let her eat it or spill it on anything.”

“Right. Thank you very much,” said Timbertwig. And he put the jar under his hat to keep it safe.

Abigail, who had nodded off to sleep in Timbertwig’s hat, suddenly woke up.

“What’s that dreadful smell?” she thought, sniffing the jar of Baldy Brew.

“I’ll have to magic that away or nobody will want to visit me in my smelly little hat-home.” And she waved her wand.

“Whiffity, woppity, zippity zo, This hat’s full up, so out you go!”

But the jar stayed where it was and Timbertwig was magicked right out of his hat!

“Oops! Sorry, Timbertwig. My spells are always going wrong.”

Timbertwig picked himself up off the ground and put his hat on again.

“Never mind,” he said. “Look Abigail, we can buy all our shopping here.” He was standing at the door of Mr Misfit’s Caravan of Surprises.

The inside of the caravan was far bigger than the outside, and its shelves overflowed with boxes and bottles and baskets. Mr Misfit could sell you anything — from an elephant’s sock to a mouse’s toothbrush.

Timbertwig wandered in amazement among the skunk-skin rugs, the butterfly wings, the whalebones and ships-in-bottles. There were hair ribbons for vultures and songbooks for elks. There were spelling books for guns and a map of footpaths on the seabed. There was a silent radio and a portrait of the Invisible Man.

And Abigail was delighted when she found a department just for spiders, where she could buy pickled flies and eight-legged pyjamas.

Timbertwig peeped over the counter and there was Mr Misfit.

“Come in, come in. Why, it’s Mrs Knot’s wee little grandson, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” replied Timbertwig. “She’s not very well, though. So I’m doing the shopping today.”

“And what can I fetch you?” Timbertwig look out his list. “I’d like…” He stopped when he saw that Granny had forgotten to write down how much she wanted of anything. Well, perhaps he could guess.

“Um… I’d like two bags of milk and a packet of turnips … a sack of butter and a loaf of bacon.”

Mr Misfit giggled. “Sliced or unsliced?” he said, meaning the bacon.

“Er, nice and crusty,” said Timbertwig. “And half a dozen cabbages and a jar of bread, please.” “Brown or white?” “Green, please,” said Timbertwig. . “I thought all cabbages were green.” “Will that be all?” laughed Mr Misfit as he put the last of the order on the counter.

“Yes, except for a wheelbarrow.” “A wheelbarrow of peas, I suppose!” chuckled the shopkeeper.

“Don’t be silly, Mr Misfit. A wheelbarrow to carry it all home in!”

Timbertwig and Abigail headed back to Wiggly Wood. Soon they could see the trees ahead shaking - Granny Knot was still sneezing.

“I’m back!” called Timbertwig. “I’ve done all the shopping.”

Granny Knot stared at the wheelbarrow over her huge red nose and her huge white hankie.

“Um, is there something wrong?” “There certainly is!” she shrieked. “What’s all this? A jar of bread, a sack of butter, two bags of milk…”

“I tried my best, didn’t I, Abigail?” “Of course you did,” squeaked the

spider, leaning out of the little green door in Timbertwig’s hat.

“You stay out of it, you spindly little creature!” snapped Granny.

Timbertwig was just going to give Granny Knot the cold cure he had brought from Doc Leaf when there was a knock on the door. He put the jar down on the table and went to answer it.

Being very nosey, Granny opened the jar, dipped the end of her nose into the liquid and began to blow bubbles.

It was Mr Misfit at the door. He had brought some flowers for Granny - and a basket of shopping that Timbertwig should have brought home. “I was only playing a little joke on you, Timbertwig, No harm done, eh?”

Just then a piercing scream rang out in the kitchen. “Oh Timbertwig, help me! Come quickly!”

Timbertwig and Mr Misfit ran into the kitchen … and burst out laughing when they saw Granny knot. Her nose was covered in fluffy white hair!

“Don’t just stand there. Do something!” she shrieked.

Mr Misfit picked up the jar of Quicky Cold Cure and recognised it straight away as Doc Leaf’s famous Baldy Brew. “Don’t worry! Doc Leaf’s hair restorer never did work! It will all fall out by the morning!”

By this time, the hair on Granny’s nose was so thick that her cold-in-the nose got warm and went away.

“Well I never did!” she said. “I’m cured! Let’s celebrate with a nice, sticky, treacle tart!”

So they all sat down to tea together. And even Abigail was allowed to join the feast. “As long as she wipes all her feet,” said Granny Knot.