My Father Was A Norwegian Who Came

Both Matilda And Lavender Were Enthralled. It Was Quite Clear To Them That They Were At This Moment Standing In The Presence Of A Master. Here Was Somebody Who Had Brought The Art Of Skulduggery To The Highest Point Of Perfection, Somebody, Moreover, Who Was Willing To Risk Life And Limb In Pursuit Of Her Calling. They Gazed In Wonder At This Goddess, And Suddenly Even The Boil On Her Nose Was No Longer A Blemish But A Badge Of Courage.

The Witching Hour, Somebody Had Once Whispered To Her, Was A Special Moment In The Middle Of The Night When Every Child And Every Grown-up Was In A Deep Deep Sleep, And All The Dark Things Came Out From Hiding And Had The World All To Themselves.

Pear Drops Were Exciting Because They Had A Dangerous Taste. All Of Us Were Warned Against Eating Them, And The Result Was That We Ate Them More Than Ever.

Rainbow Drops - Suck Them And You Can Spit In Six Different Colours.

I Was Glad My Father Was An Eye-smiler. It Meant He Never Gave Me A Fake Smile, Because It's Impossible To Make Your Eyes Twinkle If You Aren't Feeling Twinkly Yourself. A Mouth-smile Is Different. You Can Fake A Mouth-smile Any Time You Want, Simply By Moving Your Lips. I've Also Learned That A Real Mouth-smile Always Has An Eye-smile To Go With It, So Watch Out, I Say, When Someone Smiles At You With His Mouth But The Eyes Stay The Same. It's Sure To Be Bogus.