Mrs Philpott here. Just wanted to say 'hello' to everyone and that I hope you are all well?
These are unprecedented (never been known before) times, so we must do what we can to help out each other - especially as we have to stay indoors a lot.
Remember to do some homework - if possible - and to read. We might not be able to travel very far physically but when we read, we can travel the world!
I miss you all:-)
PS: I've written some stories for you - see below.
Mr Baggy Bear of 4HP
It was a normal Monday, morning break time: the children of 4HP were playing happily outside, the spring sun was shining and Mrs Philpott was in the classroom humming a merry tune whilst she got the room ready for the next lesson. Nothing out of the ordinary at all - just normal! Normal until she heard a very strange guttural noise from the stairs. Oh that’ll be Bobby messing around she thought. “Awwwwwww,” came another groaning noise, “Awwwwwwww – FOOOOOOOOOD!” it boomed. Quick as lightening, Mrs Philpott ran to the landing; she couldn’t believe it! No one would believe it!
Slumped on the floor outside the classroom door was a big, brown, baggy bear - a fully grown grizzly bear. Shocked, amazed and dumbfounded, Mrs Philpott could hardly speak. “This cannot be,” she whispered shaking her head in disbelief. The brown, baggy bear’s eyes began to flutter open then shut. Oblivious to everything, he began to snore like thunder.
“You can’t sleep there!” snapped Mrs Philpott. “The children are on their way back to class and, and . . .” she stuttered realising that her nagging was futile. The bear was clearly in a deep, delightful sleep – it even seemed to her that he was smiling.
All of a sudden, Mrs Philpott had a lightbulb moment: she remembered that some bears liked grapes, so she popped a grape gently halfway inside each of the bear’s nostrils; immediately, his black, spongy, wet nose began to twitch and he opened his large mouth (which contained 42 teeth including four long canines, 12 incisors, 16 premolars and 10 molars) for the grapes to be fed into but shrewd Mrs Philpott spoke gently into his ear: “Come with me Mr Bear. I have some grapes in my cupboard.”
The great bear followed his nose which followed the grapes; he never stood up but slid his massive frame along the carpet, to the back of the classroom and into the cupboard where Mrs Philpott popped a bunch of grapes into his gaping mouth.
The children arrived back into the classroom and so began the lesson. Mrs Philpott was writing things on the board backwards and looked like she was a 100 miles away. “Is Miss okay?” whispered one of the children.
Approaching lunchtime, there was a loud announcement: “Got any food?” bellowed a gruff voice, “I am absolutely starving, I could eat an orchard, I could eat an elephant, I could eat . . .” The voice trialed off! Simultaneously, there was a rambunctious, rustling and wrestling sound coming from the cupboard. Before Mrs Philpott could stop them, the children had gathered around the entrance to the walk-in cupboard to witness something so bizarre, so mind boggling, so extraordinary that the children were gobsmacked! There, wedged into the corner, was the bear eating crisps and biscuits with their wrappers on and smacking the lid of a bottle of lemonade with his massive paw trying (unsuccessfully) to open it.
“What you lot gawping at?” snapped the bear, “Get me something to eat NOW!
“Manners!” corrected Milly, who was one of the children, with the authority of the Queen. Astonishingly, the great bear started to cry.
“I want my food,” he wailed over and over.
Mrs Philpott got everyone to sit down and talk with their partner to come up with some ideas as to how they could give him what he needed. Tom had the brilliant idea of giving him all the food from their lunchboxes.
“Buuuuuuurp!” belched the great, baggy bear, “That was a smashing starter. What’s for the main course?”
Mrs Philpott and the children looked at each other in horror!
“Only joking with you – you ugly lot of unfurries. I will eat again when …” His voice simply went to silence as he continued into his hibernation period.
The story made front page news: Big Baggy Bear Adopts Children said one headline. The reporters were having a field day trying to get inside the school to take pictures of the bear. Nevertheless, it had been decided: 4HP would look after him until HE woke from his slumber and left of his own accord.
Well, that was three months ago and he is still there now! You see the children of 4HP are such a generous bunch that they all bring in lots of lovely food for Mr Baggy Bear (as they named him) to eat; fairy cakes the size of sandcastles are his favourite.
Some of the children love to brush his fur, which he adores, and there are 37 various coloured bows clipped into his fur. Some of the children even painted his claws with nail polish - which he quite likes as every colour is his favourite, due to the fact that he doesn’t understand the concept of ‘a favourite one’.
Mr Baggy Bear loves living in the classroom, partly because the children have fed him so much food that he cannot get out of the cupboard and partly because he thinks that he is a pupil but mainly because 4HP are so kind to each other and to him – even if he does call them 'ugly unfurries' when he’s grumpy and hungry.
Nelson’s Birthday Wish
“3rd of March. 3rd of March, 3rd of March?” Mr Patterson repeated as he racked his brain for the answer.
“Nelson’s birthday,” called out Mrs Pike.
“Nelson’s 5th birthday – how could I forget?” yelled Mr Patterson hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand.
With lightning speed, Mr Patterson was in front of the school safe clicking away the secret numbers that unlocked the slate, grey, metal box; he carefully selected an A4 sized package from among the precious documents. “Ah, there you are!” he whispered to the package, “Let’s find out what you’re all about eh?” Meanwhile, Nelson was out for his daily walk with Mrs Smith and two of the Year 3 children. No one had wished him ‘happy birthday’ and he was sulking. When they returned to Mr Patterson’s office, Nelson, with a great big sigh, (for dramatic affect) plopped himself down on his doggy sofa. “No one loves me,” he groaned in his doggy whine and then proceeded to lick his paws by way of comforting himself.
“Nelson, it’s today: your very, very special birthday. Happy 5th birthday Nelson,” gushed Mr Patterson. Mrs Pike and a few children from across the school happened to be outside the office and they popped their heads in and gave Nelson a round of applause; then the children went back to their classes. Up sat Nelson like the Lion King expecting a cake. Instead, Mr Patterson held out a golden dog’s collar that he’d retrieved from the A4 package. Granted it was made of pure gold and studded with precious jewels the colours of the rainbow but you couldn’t eat it. ‘Boring’ was written all over Nelson’s furry face and he slumped back into his doggy sofa. “Oh no you don’t, chuckled Mr Patterson, “I promised your last owner that I’d give you this on your 5th birthday. That was the deal!” Swiftly and carefully, Mr Patterson buckled the collar around Nelson’s slender neck.
WHOOSH! WOO! WHIZZ! WANG! The whole office was full of colourful sparks, smoke and scents of exotic plants. Then, two minutes later, it was all back to normal. Mr Patterson and Mrs Pike starred at each other. “Wow what a birthday treat,” announced Mrs Pike, “instead of birthday cake with a sparkly candle, Nelson got a humdinger dog’s collar. Blooming marvellous!” As she turned to go about her business, Nelson spoke: “I wanted a cake. A chocolate one.”
Mrs Pike thought Mr Patterson had made the request and Mr Patterson thought Mrs Pike had.
“It was me actually,” interjected Nelson. His voice was regal, just like how you would imagine a king would speak: deep, clear and polished. Jumping up and down, Mr Patterson was ecstatic!
“Nelson, you can speak – you clever, clever boy!”
Mrs Pike was giving the whole matter a lot of thought as the whole surreal scene played out in front of her.
“No, we mustn’t give Nelson chocolate because it can harm dogs!” she wisely cautioned.
“Oh, drat, drums and dragons, what a bore it is being a dog sometimes – I wish I were a little boy!” Nelson yearned aloud.
Whoosh! Woo! Whizz! Wang! The room was filled with golden stars and a fantastic, fanfare of music filled their ears. When the smoke and stars had cleared and the music could be heard no longer, Nelson was nowhere to be seen. “Noooooo!” chorused Mrs Pike and Mr Patterson in the depths of despair.
Mrs Pike and Mr Patterson were slumped in two chairs so deeply upset that neither could speak. The dog’s collar that was supposed to be a magnificent surprise was a disaster.
“Can I have my chocolate cake now – please?” came a little voice from behind Mr Patterson’s large chair. Out crept a small boy of about 5 years old. Mr Patterson and Mrs Pike’s jaws dropped open in astonishment. “Shouldn’t you be in the infant’s school?” queried Mrs Pike.
Startled, shocked, stumped, Mr Patterson yelled, “Nelson, is that you?”
Nelson was clothed in his dog blanket, donning the majestic dog’s collar. His hair was mousy coloured and short; his eyes were ocean blue coloured and sparkling. He cut a very handsome looking boy indeed!
“Of course you can Nelson,” cried Mrs Pike and without further ado, Mrs Pike had sent for not one but two chocolate birthday cakes from the local supermarket.
Well, what a day Nelson had: he was the star of the show in the whole school assembly. Throughout the day, he was in and out of all the classrooms – chewing pencils and fetching pens and rulers, as real dogs are wont to do; he even learnt how to count to 10, but what he loved the most was playing outside at break times and the PE lessons with all the children of Shears Green Junior School. Unsurprisingly, he was the best at retrieving the ball.
That night, Mr Patterson had a funny feeling: he couldn’t describe it but it was a mixture of sadness and hopefulness. He wasn’t sure why but he decided to stay at work that night and let the little boy Nelson sleep in the doggy bed.
Early the next morning, Mr Patterson was mumbling: “No Nelson no!” His eyes still closed after a night of restless sleep. Then he suddenly realised that it was Nelson’s rough, furry dog’s tongue licking his face. “Was it all a dream?” wondered Mr Patterson but he knew the answer as soon as he saw the golden, jewelled dog’s collar lying on Nelson’s bed . . .