Dad snorted. ‘No – he runs Neighbourhood Watch because he likes blowing whistles, waving torches and setting traps for burglars. I bet he was a boy scout when he was a kid and had so many badges he had to have a special jumper with extra sleeves to make room for them. Mr Goody-Goody, that’s who he is. And why are you laughing at me?’
‘I’m laughing at the idea of a jumper with extra sleeves.’
‘Well, don’t. It’s cruel to laugh at a man when he’s in pain. Have you seen the bruise I’ve got on my shin from when Mr Tugg pushed me into the hen house?’
‘You said you slipped on the mud,’ Mum reminded him.
‘I slipped because I was pushed.’ Dad rolled up a trouser leg to show off his bruise. ‘Look at that. It’s the size of a melon.’
Mum bent down to get a better look. ‘Hmmm, more grape-sized, if you ask me,’ she muttered, winking at me. ‘I’m not surprised Mr Tugg wanted to arrest you, creeping about with a tent wrapped round your middle.’
‘I thought I heard the fox and I got up to look but I couldn’t get out of the tent fast enough so I had to stand there with it on. You can hardly blame me. The tent was too small.’
‘Oh! It was the tent’s fault?’
‘Exactly,’ Dad nodded, and then he brightened up. ‘But it did give me a good idea.’
Mum’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh dear. Now I’m really panicking,’ she said. ‘Your ideas are always off the planet.’
Dad smiled. ‘That’s because I’m a freethinker. It’s important to try and think differently. Anyhow, what I thought was why –’ Dad broke off suddenly and frowned at something on the table. ‘Am I right in thinking that there’s a carrot sitting up at the table wearing dolls’ clothes?’
‘Yes,’ said Mum.
‘But it’s a carrot,’ Dad repeated.
‘Yes. Her name is Cecily Sprout,’ Mum told him.
‘But it’s a carrot,’ Dad repeated.
‘Yes. It’s Tomato’s latest doll.’
‘But it’s a carrot,’ said Dad again.
‘Yes, Ron, we all know it’s a carrot. But for Tomato it is actually her favourite doll. Think of it as a free-thinking carrot – a carrot that has gone beyond the boundary of just being an ordinary carrot, a carrot that has become almost a person. Tomato was giving her breakfast before you came down.’
Dad’s eyes almost fell out of his face. ‘She was giving a carrot breakfast? The whole family’s bonkers. I think I’m the only sensible person here.’
Mum burst out laughing. ‘That really takes the biscuit. Now, are you going to tell us your good idea or not?’
But we still didn’t hear what it was because Tomato appeared in the kitchen pushing her toy wheelbarrow. ‘Giving Cecily a ride,’ she said, lifting the carrot-doll from the table and sitting her up in the wheelbarrow. ‘We’re going to the shops to get some lunch for Cecily.’
‘I thought she’d only just had breakfast,’ Dad muttered darkly.
‘What does Cecily Sprout eat?’ I asked, just out of curiosity.
‘Fish and chips and chocolate scream,’ Tomato declared. She always says ‘scream’ instead of ‘ice cream’. My sister began to wheel the carrot outside. She turned at the door and looked back at Dad.
‘You brokened our tent,’ she said accusingly. ‘Bad Daddy.’
‘Sorry,’ muttered Dad. ‘And you say “broke”, not “brokened”.’
‘Yes, and you brokened a lettuce.’
‘Broke,’ repeated Dad. ‘It got squashed a bit, that’s all.’
‘Yes, and you put mud on your clothes.’
‘All right, I know,’ growled Dad, looking more and more like the world’s worst criminal.
‘Yes, and Cheese says he can touch the moon from the top of the hen house.’
‘Is that so?’ Dad shook his head in disbelief. ‘Hang on, what do you mean, from the top of the hen house? Cheese isn’t on top of the hen house, is he?’
Tomato peered out through the open door and nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, and he’s standing up too. No, he isn’t, he’s just slidded off.’
There was a loud yelp from outside, a moment of silence and then an even louder wail went up. We all rushed to the rescue. Cheese was more surprised and cross than hurt, but Mum calmed him down with a biscuit.
‘Who didn’t shut the gate properly?’ demanded Mum, looking accusingly at Dad.
Dad’s face puckered. ‘I want a biscuit too,’ he moaned, trying to change the subject. ‘Look at my bruise. Boo hoo. Want a biscuit.’
‘Big baby,’ laughed Tomato.
‘Yes,’ agreed Mum. ‘Your dad is the biggest baby of all. And what we still don’t know is what Big Baby’s Big Idea is. Come on, we’re bursting to hear what it is, aren’t we, Nicholas?’
‘Bursting,’ I grinned, wondering what crazy scheme Dad had in mind now.
‘Well, I think we all need a holiday.’
‘Great!’ I yelled.
‘Heavens above, you’ve actually come up with a good idea for once,’ Mum chuckled.
‘I know. And I think we should all go camping,’ Dad went on.
Mum’s smile vanished. ‘You don’t want us to wear little tents like you did, do you?’
‘No! I am thinking of proper camping, with proper camping equipment. What do you reckon?’ Dad beamed at us.
‘OK,’ nodded Mum.
‘It’ll be brilliant!’ I said.
4 What a Shower!
You should see what my dad’s brought home! You’ll never guess, so I’ll give you some clues. It’s blue and yellow and the roof goes up and down. You can sleep inside it. You can even go to the loo inside it. And it’s not a tent, it’s a tent on wheels! Yep – it’s a camper van!
‘It’s got four beds,’ Dad boasted.
‘There are five of us,’ I said.
‘Cheese and Tomato can share,’ Dad explained, and he lifted the twins up into one of the beds. ‘They’ll be like sardines in a tin.’
‘You mean a cheese and tomato sandwich, Dad,’ I grinned.
Mum raised one eyebrow. ‘You two are like peas in a pod,’ she said. ‘It’s very worrying. I’m already living with a crazy loon and now my oldest child is getting just like him. Oh dear.’
Dad gave Mum a hug. ‘You love it really,’ he suggested.
‘Geroff, you big lump,’ she giggled. ‘What’s this cupboard for?’ She pointed to a double-door wardrobe and opened it up. Magic! It wasn’t a wardrobe at all – it was a proper cooker unit with a stove, an oven and grill and everything.
‘Oh my!’ said Mum, impressed. ‘That is clever.’
‘There’s a fridge,’ I added. ‘And look here, a toilet.’
Mum gazed into the tiniest little room. ‘Oh, dinky!’
‘You can take a shower in there,’ Dad said.
‘You are ridiculous, Ron,’ laughed Mum. ‘There’s no room for a shower. What am I supposed to do – stand upside down in the toilet bowl and flush it?’
Dad rolled his eyes. ‘Now who’s being ridiculous? You sit on the toilet. See that shower head above you? The water goes everywhere but eventually it drains away through the plughole down there.’
Mum wasn’t convinced. ‘Suppose I put the shower on by mistake, when what I really want to do is flush the loo?’
‘Suppose we give you a brain transplant?’ suggested Dad. ‘Honestly, how can you muddle up the shower with the toilet flush?’
‘I suppose I am being a bit fussy,’ agreed Mum. She glanced round the inside of the van again and a smile crept on to her face. I knew she was impressed. This was the best thing that Dad had ever done. We went back indoors and talked over holiday plans for ages.
‘Going camping!’ shouted Cheese, while Tomato went racing round the room making big jumps and getting wilder and wilder until Mum caught her up in her arms and swept her off her feet.
‘Camping!’ she yelled, waving her carrot in Mum’s face. ‘Cecily Sprout says she likes camping.’ Tomato squinted up at Mum. ‘What is camp
ing?’ she asked.
‘You’ll soon see,’ laughed Mum. ‘It’s going to be fun, and Cecily can come with us.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Dad. ‘Good idea, because if we run out of food we can always–’
‘NO, RON!’ shouted Mum. ‘That is not funny. Not when you’re only three.’
‘I’m not three,’ protested Dad.
‘You know exactly what I mean. Anyhow, sometimes I think you’re more like a three-year-old than the twins.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ muttered Dad.
‘And Poop can come too,’ Cheese announced, with a bright smile, but Mum shook her head.
‘No, I’m afraid not, darling. We can’t take Poop as well.’
Cheese’s face began to crumple. ‘Poop come too. It’s not fair. You said Tomato can take Cecily.’
‘Yes, I know I said that, but Cecily Sprout is a carrot and it’s all right to take carrots camping, but you can’t take hens camping.’
Dad looked at Mum with astonishment.
‘Excuse me? It’s all right to take carrots camping?’ he echoed. ‘Are you mad?’
Tomato joined forces with her brother and waved Cecily at Mum. ‘Poop is Cecily’s friend and they’ll both be sad. Look, Cecily Sprout is crying.’ She began to make whimpering noises on behalf of the carrot.
‘I’m sorry, we can’t take a hen camping,’ repeated Mum.
‘Why not?’ Tomato sniffed.
‘Because they don’t make tents for hens,’ snapped Dad.
‘Poop can sleep in my bed,’ my brother said.
‘All the hens have to stay here,’ insisted Mum.
Tomato put the carrot to her ear. ‘What’s that? Sssh, Cecily is telling me something. Cecily Sprout says you and Daddy are horrible and all the hens should go camping and people should make tents for them.’
Dad’s eyebrows were climbing up his head.
‘I can’t believe I’m being told off by a carrot. I think I’ll go and do something sensible in the garden.’
I followed him out. I wanted to know what we were going to do with our goat, Rubbish. She needs milking every day and I’m the one who does that.
‘Granny and Lancelot can look after her,’ said Dad. ‘They’ve done it before.’
‘What about the hens?’ I added.
‘I’ll get your mother to talk to Mrs Tugg about that. She’s a reasonable woman – unlike Grumblebum, her husband. The hens don’t need much attention, and she likes them, apart from Captain Birdseye, but that’s only because he crows in the morning and wakes her up.’
I rang Granny to tell her our news and she was so excited to hear about the camper van that she said she and Lancelot would come round straight away. Sure enough, a few minutes later we heard the familiar roar of their motorbike as they came up the road.
Lancelot pulled off his helmet and whipped the shades from his eyes. ‘Wow!’ he breathed. ‘That is some motor!’
‘It’s got a shower,’ Mum said proudly. ‘But you have to stand in the toilet to use it.’
Granny looked confused. ‘Why do you boil sand for the shower?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Dad.
‘You said you get sand and boil it,’ Granny repeated.
I laughed. I knew what had happened. Granny is a bit deaf at times and she mistakes words.
‘Gran! Gran! Mum said you STAND in the TOILET to use the shower.’
But Granny was still confused. ‘She may very well have said that, Nicholas, but it still doesn’t make sense. Why do you stand in the toilet if you want a shower? If I want a shower at home I stand in the shower, not in the toilet. I think that’s rather horrible. I wouldn’t want to stand in a toilet, it’s most–’
‘YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAND IN THE TOILET!’ Dad suddenly yelled, tearing at his hair. ‘YOU SIT ON THE TOILET! THEN YOU TAKE A SHOWER.’
Granny looked at Dad steadily. ‘You always were a noisy child,’ she told him. ‘And I still don’t see why I should have to sit on the toilet if I want a shower. When I want a shower at home I don’t–’
‘YOU’RE NOT AT HOME. THIS IS A CAMPER VAN!’ Dad howled.
‘Just look at him,’ said Granny, shaking her head. ‘You’d think he was three, wouldn’t you?’ She glanced at the beds, counting them. ‘There’s only room for five to sleep. Where do Lancelot and I go?’
Dad turned red. ‘You’re not coming,’ he said tetchily. ‘I mean, I was just thinking of the family.’
‘But we are family. I’m your mother,’ Granny pointed out. She caught my eye and winked at me. She was winding Dad up.
‘I know,’ Dad grumbled. ‘I mean family family – Brenda and Nicholas and me and the twins.’
‘And Poop!’ added Cheese.
‘Oh yes, you must take Poop,’ said Granny, quickly.
‘How many more times? We are not taking Poop!’ Dad couldn’t take much more.
Cheese began punching the air with one hand, then the other and he marched round, shouting, ‘Pooper-dooper, sooper-pooper!’
Then Lancelot joined in, tucking his hands under his armpits and flapping his elbows and strutting round the van like a chicken. ‘Prrrarkk! Prrrarrrkk! We’re going camping!’
‘Right, that’s it,’ grumbled Dad.
‘I’ve had enough. I’m taking the camper van back and we’re going to stay at home and twiddle our thumbs and not go anywhere at all.’
Mum slipped an arm round Dad’s waist. ‘Oh, stop being such a misery-guts. Don’t you know when you’re being teased? Your mother’s pulling your leg. Of course she and Lancelot aren’t coming camping with us. They’ll be here, looking after Rubbish.’
Dad’s frown vanished. ‘Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that.’
So there we are, we’re going on a camping holiday and I can’t wait!
5 Who’s Taking What?
We packed most of the van yesterday. It’s got loads of cupboards and places to put things. It’s really clever. The cupboard doors and drawers have special locks on them to stop them opening when we’re driving along. The beds pack down and turn into proper seats. The fridge even has an ice-maker.
We’re going away for a week and I had to choose all the clothes and things I wanted to take. Mum helped Cheese and Tomato. Tomato wanted to take the wheelbarrow for Cecily Sprout but Mum told her it was too big. Then Cheese carried Poop upstairs, put the hen in his bag and did up the zip so that just Poop’s head was sticking out.
‘No,’ said Mum, in her stern voice. Cheese scowled, stuck his hands on his hips and looked defiant for several seconds while he and Mum had a silent staring match. Finally, he unzipped the bag, lifted Poop out and went stamping back downstairs. There was something about the look on his face that made me think we hadn’t seen the last of Poop.
Meanwhile, Tomato was carefully packing her carrot. Cecily was wearing Barbie pyjamas for the journey.
‘I’m sure Cecily is going to love camping,’ smiled Mum.
‘She says she won’t like it if it rains,’ Tomato warned.
‘It won’t rain. It’s going to be lovely and hot. Has Cecily got a swimming costume?’
‘Yes,’ nodded Tomato. ‘She’s got a blue bikini and sunglasses but she mustn’t go in the sun too much in case she burns.’
Mum glanced at me and bit her bottom lip very hard to stop herself from laughing out loud. I guess we were both imagining a carrot with sunglasses, not to mention the bikini.
Dad had packed three suitcases, and that was just for him.
‘What have you put in there?!’ quizzed Mum.
‘Scuba-diving kit, inflatable dinghy, five pairs of trousers, sixteen shirts, eight jumpers, three jackets, ten pairs of shoes, socks, underpants, pyjamas, slippers, toothbrush, books to read and the goat.’ Dad saw the look on Mum’s face. ‘Just joking about the goat,’ he added quickly.
‘Well, I hope you’re joking about the scuba-diving kit and the dinghy and all those clothes too. We’re only going away for a week. We’re not moving house!’
Dad scratched his head. ‘Do you think it’s too much?’
‘Of course it’s too much. If we put all that in the van there won’t be any room left for people. You are allowed one case only, one small case.’
‘What about the –’ began Dad.
‘Leave it,’ Mum interrupted. ‘If you have to ask you obviously don’t need it. I suggest you take two of everything.’
‘Does that mean two shoes, or two pairs of shoes?’
‘Of course I mean two pairs. Why would you only take one shoe? What’s the point?’
Dad shrugged. ‘I was just asking. Sometimes women say strange things.’
‘That’s probably because sometimes men do strange things,’ Mum shot back. ‘Especially in this house. Nicholas, how is your packing going?’ Mum checked through my bag and nodded approvingly. ‘You’d better go and help your father,’ she suggested. ‘Thank heavens you’re sensible.’
I grinned and went to help Dad. What this actually meant was that I stood on the bed and gave him orders while Dad held things up for my inspection. ‘Yes. No. No. No. That’s my old teddy. Why have you got my old teddy?’
Dad turned a deep red. ‘I like it,’ he muttered.
‘You’ll have to leave it behind. No. Yes. No. No. Dad, you’ve shown me your scuba-diving kit three times now and I’ve said “no” each time.’
‘I was hoping you might forget you’d already said “no” and say “yes” instead.’
‘The answer is still “no”,’ I ordered.
‘Spoilsport,’ Dad complained, and so we went on.
Mrs Tugg has agreed to look after the chickens. She said that she’s not going to tell her husband until we’ve actually gone, because otherwise he’ll make a fuss.
‘He’s never been fond of animals since he was a child,’ she confided to Mum. ‘His dad took him to the zoo. He was standing next to the monkey cage while his dad took a photo and a monkey came up and pulled on his trousers and they fell down round his ankles.’
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