Lines you would never hear in Enid Blyton!

[deepeabee]

While the lady was in the back making them some sandwiches, Julian and the others filled their pockets with the good things on the shelves. "I hope she doesn't notice we have had these" said Julian.

[anneshiningstar]

"aw! i just hate boys thank goodness i'm a girl"said Georgina to anne"by the way anne have you seen my mascara and lipstick anywhere i'm a hurry to get to the dance"
"here they are Georgina "said Anne

[Courtenay]

"I've had enough of this little old red and yellow rust bucket, Mr Garage Man," said Noddy. "It's time for a trade-in, don't you think? Ooh, I do like that lovely big silver Ferrari!"

[Mehul]

I love the country. So peace and quiet. - Diana

[Francis]

Jack shot the Great Auk but not with a camera!

[Courtenay]

"It's Frederick," Fatty replied hotly. "Frederick Algernon Trotteville. And if you don't stop calling me Fatty, I shan't hesitate to report you to my friend P.C. Goon on grounds of harassment and discrimination."

[Francis]

Bill kissed Allie passionately. " How nice to have a cruise together without those annoying kids" whispered Bill "they always get in the way of our lovemaking".

[vfvd]

"It's not fair", Dick huffed. "You've all got perfectly normal names- mine is just so embarassing! I'd much rather you call me Richard!"

[Farwa]

"I've had enough of adventures!" said Peter. "Yeah, I hate them" Jack replied. "Perhaps we should turn our shed into a fashion club instead of a silly 'Secret Seven Society''," said Janet. "Your sister could join, Jack, and for once I could be the head, and order you about. I've had enough of being bossed around by you and Peter!" "Nah, this is just a shed, and I'm tired of pretending it is some great club or something", said Peter.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Goodness, I'm so glad there aren't such lines in Enid Blyton books! I'd hate it if there were!

[burlingtonbertram]

"I followed the man with the suspicious accent and he went into the surgery," Dick explained, wolfing down a sandwich. "Anyway, I asked the receptionist if he is a patient".

"And is he?" asked Julian.

"No. Apparently he is a Primary Health Care Provider," Dick explained.

"What's that?" Anne asked, mystified.

"I'm not sure, but apparently it isn't a surgery either. It's a Community Health Care Centre," Dick elaborated.

George questioned further, "Did she say anything else?"

"Well, I tried to ask about his background and she got a bit funny. She told me to get myself down to the Town Hall and book myself in on a Diversity Awareness course."

"What on earth is that?" Anne blurted.

"Haven't the foggiest...."

[Spitfire]

(A sheer piece of self-indulgence this, but here goes...)

“It’s bed time, Timmy,” said George, stifling an enormous yawn. “Come on.”

Timmy was curled up on the hearthrug and did not want to move, but he couldn’t bear to let his beloved mistress out of his sight. He got up stiffly and followed her to the door.

George had reached the top of the stairs before she realised that Timmy was not with her, and looked back. He was still standing at the bottom, looking up at her with his old, tired eyes, very clearly saying: “I don’t know if I have the energy for this.”

George trod softly back down and sat on the bottom step. Tim gratefully laid his head against her. “Oh, Tim, you’re so feeble, darling,” she whispered, a lump in her throat. “The days of you bounding up ahead of me are gone, aren’t they? And I can’t carry you up, so I’ll bring my stuff down here and sleep in the lounge with you. It’s nice and warm there.”

Timmy wagged his tail slightly and George stood up. She went upstairs to her bedroom, intending to collect pillows and blankets, but just as she picked up her pillow, she heard the sound of Timmy trudging stolidly up the stairs, and a moment later his head appeared around the door. He went immediately to the bed where his rug was spread out at the bottom, gathered his strength almost visibly, and jumped up.

George undressed and got into bed. She snuggled into her blankets and tucked her feet carefully against Timmy’s warm body, then reached down and stroked his head and fondled his ears.

Timmy was feeling unwell again; that painful tightness in his chest was back – but as long as he was with George, everything was all right. He gave her hand a loving lick. She withdrew it, and he heaved an enormous sigh, closed his tired eyes, and nestled into her.

George lay awake for a while, listening to him breathing. She knew that he was growing weak, and felt heavy hearted. Eventually however, she slept, and did not even hear when Anne came up to bed.

Timmy had fallen asleep almost immediately. He dreamt that he was on Kirrin Island again, chasing plump little rabbits with tantalising white bob-tails, which whisked out of reach down rabbit-holes just as he reached them. Then he was on the beach, gulping down an ice cream with no lick and all swallow; then, with the illogical sequence that is only sane in dreams, he was swimming in the sea with George, and she was holding him around the neck and allowing him to pull her along. Sometimes his paws twitched as he raced along the sand, or leapt up to catch a ball that had been thrown for him. He felt the sun on his back and heard the laughter of the four children as they lazed on the beach. He was on top of the world.

After a few hours, he gradually ceased to dream. He thought he heard a familiar, beloved voice, and it was as a pleasant, lulling murmur; a sound like companionship and contentment on a summer’s day. Slowly, peacefully, Timmy drifted away.

[Courtenay]

[Daisy]

Oh Sarah.... that's beautiful, *sniff*. Poor old George.

[Spitfire]

Thanks Daisy.

Sorry, Courtenay. Was it too much? How about this then:

“Timmy’s gone.” George, fully dressed, and sitting on the bed next to Tim’s curled-up body, spoke to Anne in a stiff, brittle voice, without looking at her.

Anne was wide awake at once. She exclaimed in genuine sorrow and got out of bed, ready to come across and comfort George – then stopped. She frowned. Something wasn’t right.

“George – are you sure? We’re story-book characters after all, even Timmy. I don’t think he could ever die!”

“That’s true,” said George, her face lighting up in hope. “Oh, Anne, do you think – perhaps – that - that it might just be a bad dream?”

“A bad sequel, more like,” said Anne. “Enid Blyton would never have written such rubbish. But I’m sure it will be all right. Just wait and see!”

And at that moment, right on cue, Timmy gave a big sigh, and stirred. He stretched luxuriously, opened his brown eyes and regarded both girls tranquilly.

“Timmy!” George flung her arms around him. “You’ve come back to me! Oh Timmy, I couldn’t bear it!” She paused and drew away. “Why, you’re young again,” she added wonderingly.

“Of course,” said Anne, and she came across and gave Tim a hug too. “We’re forever young. Come on, George. Let’s wake the boys and go and have a bathe before breakfast. It’s a glorious day!”

[Fiona1986]

Oh the tears I can hardly see to type!