Of Lions and Unicorns: A Lifetime of Tales from the Master Storyteller

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I’m a bit late. She’s there already,

swinging her bag and singing.

“Happy birthday to me,

happy birthday to me.

Happy birthday, dear Lula,

happy birthday to me!”

For tea there’s a big cake with candles on it,

and they’re singing that song again.

Will you look at them

tucking into that cake!

And never a thought for me.

Lula’s so busy unwrapping her presents

that she doesn’t even notice I’m there,

not even when I put my head on her knee.

Car! Car coming up my lane, and not one I know.

I’m out of the house in a flash.

I’m not just a farm dog, you know, I’m a guard dog too.

“Russ! Stop that barking, will you?”

That’s all the thanks I get.

I’m telling you, it’s a dog’s life.

Looks like a horse to me.

Give him a sniff.

Yes, definitely a horse.

Lula goes mad.

She’s hugging the horse

just like she hugs me, only for longer.

A lot longer.

“He’s beautiful,” she’s saying.

“Just what I wanted.”

Well, I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.

I haven’t had any of that cake,

and they’re not watching.

Nip back inside. Jump on a chair.

I’m a champion chomper.

Ooops.

The plate’s fallen off the table.

I’m in trouble now.

They all come running in.

I look dead innocent.

Doesn’t fool them though.

“You rascal, you. Out you go!”

I don’t care. It was worth it.

I go and sit at the top of the hill

and tell Smarty all about it.

He barks back, “Good on you!

Who wants to be a good dog, anyway?”

Then Lula’s sitting down beside me.

“I really love my horse,” she says,

“but I love you more, Russ. Promise.”

Give her a good lick. Make her giggle.

I like it when she giggles.

Lick her again.

Lovely.

(#ulink_69737a50-a1cb-5f62-a429-9f34c03b6fe6)

have been teaching for over twenty years now, mostly around Hoxton, in north London. After all that time I am no longer at all sentimental about children. I don’t think you could be. Twenty years at the chalk face of education gives you a big dose of reality.