The Enid Blyton Society

Enid Blyton in January

Enid Blyton in January

And now, as you read this, the New Year will be in. We shall have heard the bells ring out at midnight if we were awake, and old 1955 will have given place to the new young 1956. What will it hold for you, I wonder? What resolutions did you make? Or did you forget to make any? I shall have made my usual one — it never varies — and I am sure you must know it by now. My resolution is simply this — to be kind. And, if you think about it, kindness covers nearly all other resolutions. If you are kind you cannot be mean or untruthful or dishonest or cowardly — kindness of heart means that you cannot possibly do or say anything that would hurt anyone or upset them. So I hope you agree with me that my resolution is one of the best ones that anyone can make — and perhaps, if you haven't already made one yourself, you will share in mine.

Enid Blyton in January

A loud scream made everyone jump. "Oh, that is Pain," said the giant [Giant Cruelty], with a laugh. "I keep him captive too. He amuses me."

Peter felt cold all down his back to hear the giant say such cruel things. How awful to keep people prisoner and treat them so that they cried out like that! He gazed at the giant with such dislike that he noticed it.

"Ah, my boy, you don't like me when you meet me? But I have often been beside you in the City of Turmoil and you did not know it! I laughed when you threw stones at animals and birds. I made merry when you struck someone smaller than yourself! I nearly cracked my sides when you stamped on frogs! And how I roared when you called unkind names after that poor blind woman who lived in the street next to you."

Peter went pale. He remembered all those things. He had done them. He had been cruel too — and the giant had been by his side, invisible, and had enjoyed all that he, Peter, had done. The boy was filled with horror. Tears came into his eyes, and he turned his head away.

Enid Blyton in January


When the sun hangs low in the eastern sky,
Caught in the trees that shiver and sigh,
Red as the robin that flits near by,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

When the lane is a-glitter beneath our feet,
Powdered with crystal, delicate, sweet,
And the quiet pond is a silver sheet,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

Come out, come out, while the sky is red,
Over the crunching fields to tread,
Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

They came to Time's Hollow — a queer, deep little glade hollowed out in the middle of the wood, surrounded by quiet, bare trees. And there, sitting on an old log, was the bent old fellow that Janie had seen, his scythe put down beside him, its great blade caught in the moonlight.

Dancing round him was the child, the little New Year. Kneeling before him was the Old Year, with a great, heavy book in his hands. Janie gave a gasp, half of fright and half of excitement.

Enid Blyton in January

Old Father Time heard her and looked up. He saw the four peeping children and smiled, so that his thousand wrinkles vanished and he looked suddenly wise and beautiful.

"Come here," he said. "You have found us at the only time we may be seen — the moments between the old year and the new. Timeless moments, when the moon stands still, and the wind forgets to blow."

It was a pink toy cat, with a very long tail and rather fierce whiskers. She called to Noddy.

"Are you the taxi-driver? I want to go to the station, please. How much is the fare?"

Enid Blyton in January"Sixpence all the way there and back," said Noddy, nodding excitedly.

"Well, I only want to go there, but not back," said the pink cat. "I'm going to catch the train at the station. How much is it to go there and not back?"

Noddy didn't know. He couldn't possibly do sums like that. He stared at the toy cat, puzzled.

"Well? Tell me!" said the cat, swishing her long tail. "Don't you know?"

Noddy nodded his head miserably. "No, I don't know," he said.

"I wish you wouldn't say no and nod your head at the same time," said the toy cat. "It's very muddling."

"I can't help it," said Noddy. "I'm the little nodding man. Shall we ask Mr. Tubby, the teddy bear next door, if he knows what to charge for going there and not back."

Mr. Tubby came to the door when he was called. "How much is it if we go there and not back?" asked Noddy. Mr. Tubby looked wise.

"It's exactly the same as if you go back and not there," he said, and before they could say anything more he shut the door and went inside his house.

Enid Blyton in January

"What exactly is a resolution?" asked Mr. Twiddle. "It's such a long and peculiar word."

"Well — when you make a resolution it just means that you resolve to do something and really mean it," said Mrs. Twiddle. "Don't pretend you don't know that, Twiddle! You make a promise to yourself — you determine to do something; but if you make this resolution on New Year's Eve it's very important and very special."

"Oh!" said Twiddle. "Have you made any good resolutions, wife?"

"Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Twiddle. "I've resolved not to be cross with the paper-boy when he brings the wrong paper — and I've resolved to mend all those old shirts of yours I've been putting off for so long — and I've resolved not to let you snore at nights — "

"Well! What a queer resolution!" said Mr. Twiddle, indignantly. "Surely that ought to be my resolution, not yours, wife?"

"Oh, no, dear — because you can't stop yourself snoring, and I very well can," said Mrs. Twiddle. "I've only got to pinch you hard and you stop."