1066 All Stars

It is two years on but I remember the details like it was yesterday.

Walking over the bridge back to my car, the phone call that told me something was wrong. Packing a bag, driving that lonely drive, the tears already forming as I sped along the dark roads.

Walking into the hospital, attempting to compose myself, not wanting to break. And then walking into that room and seeing him there. And there was no holding back the flood.

I didn’t care who else was there in that moment. I would express my emotion with no sense of shame or embarrassment. As the evening wore on, reality set in. This would be his last night with us, there was no coming back. And even in these darkest of circumstances we found moments of light, an impromptu picnic breaking out as I quipped, ‘It’s what he would have wanted,’ the nurse having to come and tell us off because we were being too noisy.

The next day my dad died. He was 67.

I wonder what he would make of my life since. That he would be proud I have no doubt. But what would he make of the man I have become?

In our last conversation, he asked about my job. I know he wanted me to find fulfilment and stability. The letter has been achieved, the former still eludes me.

He knew of my desire to be published. I am far from being a paid writer but the self-publication of three of my own books, independent publication of competition winning stories and a regular gig writing about videogames gives me a sense of achievement.

And of course there are his beloved grandchildren. The girls still talk about him and tell me how much they miss him and want to feed him chocolate biscuits. We talk about him being up in the stars, looking after the ‘up’ balloon that Leah accidentally let go of once. He never got the chance to meet his grandson. Perhaps when he is old enough, the girls can help explain who grandad was.

Fundamentally I think my dad wanted only one thing for me; to be happy. He knew of my struggles with depression and anxiety. He knew of the time spent at The Priory. He knew of my internal battle to push my limits whilst wracked with self-doubt.

And it is here where I find myself still falling short. I am not depressed, yet I find that there remains an underlying sadness to my character. I make friends quickly yet just as quickly retreat, consciously pulling myself away from social interaction, creating my own divide so that I end up looking in from the outside. It becomes a vicious circle as I desire an invitation to join the group whilst at the same time waiting by the door to make a swift exit. This in turn feeds thoughts of resentment and bitterness, judgement and comparisons built up and framed in my own mind.

But then happiness is not a destination, it is a consequence of the journey and in many ways, mine has only just begun.

Who are we?

The smile that hides a broken soul.

The reflection in the mirror you can't look in the eye.

The voice that says you're too fat, too short, too stupid.

The voice that says you're no good, you're a failure, that there is no point in trying.

The realisation that the voice is your own.

When you feel different, out of place, flawed.

When life seems to be a party that everyone has been invited to but you.

When the world seems to look down on you and say, 'no.'

For those who fight a daily battle, unseen from the world.

For those who think they are they are weak, alone, that no one understands.

You are not weak, you are not flawed. And you are not alone.

We are the silent majority. But let us be silent no more. It is time to talk. It is time to change.

Because it is never too late to be the person you want to be.

Life is a journey. Let's walk it together.

Today I made the decision to go back on to anti-depressants.

It is something I have been considering for some time. My mood has been fluctuating wildly, including significant low points. My anxiety levels have been consistently high, setting me off at innocuous circumstances, in particular around the children.

And yet there is a sense of failure and regret. Over two years on from therapy, where I thought I had left the pills behind, I have a sense of having regressed. My blog writing, so often a source of pride and progression, now feels fraudulent. Who am I to shout to the world about how far I have come when I have slipped back into a reliance on drugs?

But this is of course nonsense. I have not regressed. There is no shame, no failure. In fact, quite the opposite. I recognised that something was wrong, saw that my behaviour and mood had fallen and rather than obstinately soldiering on, took steps to address it. This is not weakness, it is bravery. I am proud of myself for having the courage to recognise that I needed help. 

It was with a sense of conviction that I explained my circumstances to the GP, calmly and lucidly and found the support of a professional who understood. This is the right thing for me at the right time. A chance to press the pause button of my mind and take a deep breath before jumping back into the pool. In the journey of life, this is not a backwards step, merely a detour.

Mental illness is not something to be ashamed of. Nor is asking for help.

An incredibly difficult week and one that I am almost reluctant to look back on. And yet I know that there are issues that I need to explore.

The details of the week are not important, I do not wish to trawl over the events any further. It is the emotional impact that they had that is important. With that in mind, the week found me at turns sad, angry, lonely, tearful, bitter and remorseful.

Things started with a sense of isolation, which in turn led to me feeling both sad and angry. Not knowing what to do with these feelings, I bottled them up and kept them inside, retreating into myself, withdrawing from those around me. Inevitably this withdrawal only increased the feeling, adding bitterness to the equation, feeding the cycle of anger and sadness. In the end, I felt I had retreated too far to come back to the point that any genuine grievance had long since been lost.

Whilst these events played out, on a completely unrelated note I found myself thinking about my dad as a song came on the cd that reminded me of happier times. I knew that the anniversary of his death was near (the fact that I had to look up the date causing another round of guilt and shame) and in a vulnerable mood, found my mind wandering to that which had been lost. This was compounded by a lunchtime walk, normally the highlight of my day, accompanied on this occasion by a Coldplay song whose lyrics felt so poignant ('Nobody said it would be so hard...') that I felt close to tears, more than once having to take in a deep, steadying breath to prevent them spilling forth.

Coming home from work, I could not even bring myself to listen to the radio. Pulling onto the drive, I switched the engine off and sat not wanting to get out, unable to share my internal pain, not wanting to face the reality of parenting that awaited me within.

By the end of the week, after days of anguish, anxiety, sadness and anger, I felt drained. It took me back to a time before therapy when depression and anxiety were at their worst. But there was one more card to play. Finally I opened up and shared the internal struggle and pain. And in so doing, I found a way forward and began the process of moving on. Yet even then the battle was not over, my internal sadness replaced with an external anxiety. Had I done the right thing? Had I pushed the wrong button? The cycle of doubt, guilt, recrmination and shame refused to stop pedalling. I do not regret my emotions for they were real within each moment, but I began to regret my actions.

If I knew how to write a big sigh, I would enter it here. It is frustrating to look back at these events with a clear mind and see the opportunites to resolve that were lost. But let's instead focus on the feelings.

Sadness and anger are of course healthy emotions alongside happiness and fear. It is only when they become sustained that they can become unhealthy and lead to the well worn path of depression.

Why though did I feel so isolated and why did it hurt so much? The answer lies in a recurring underlying theme of my mental illness, a crippling lack of self confidence. Fundamentally I retain a sense that I am flawed and, if not unlovable, then at least easy to dislike. I compare myself unfavourably to others, constantly looking for opportunities to support my theory that others are more popular, more wanted, more fun. I become resentful, unable to appreciate the achievement of another without seeing it as a knock on self. Like anything, if you go looking for something you are convinced is there then you are likely to find it, no matter if the evidence supports it.

And why could I not confront these issues? Partly perhaps because I knew that I had played a part. Mainly though through fear and embarrasment. If I confronted my fears, they may be confirmed as true. What would be worse, fearing the worst or knowing it?

As these issues began to subside, I started to ask myself a different question. Who am I? Am I the guy who wants to dress in a suit and sit at the big table sounding like he belongs? Am I the guy who wants to push on, improve himself and achieve? Or am I the guy who likes to listen to wrestling podcasts, fantasy booking my own promotion whilst daydreaming about which retro game review I'm going to write next? The answer of course is all of the above.

This continuous swirl of thoughts and self doubt leaves me wondering where I am. Why did I fall so hard? Why did I experience such depth of emotion?

Perhaps I am just being melodramatic. Maybe this is just life. But there is more going on here. For some time now, I have been conscious that I am struggling. The simplest of decisions cause me anxiety. I am constantly losing my patience with the children. Emotionally I feel all over the place, a snatched lyric or melody routinely evoking a sense of (swiftly repressed) tearful sadness. The week that was is not an isolated event but a pattern of escalating behaviour.

It is against this backdrop that I have decided to see the doctor with a view to being placed back on anti-depressants. There is no shame in this but at the same time I must be sure that I am not simply trying to run away from life. The tablets are a means to an end, not the end themselves, a chance to get back on an even keel, balance out my emotions and start to tackle some of the underlying issues again.

This blog is not what I wanted it to be. I had written this out in my head so many times that by the time I have come to put (figurative) pen to paper it is inevitably a disappointment. At least to me.

But then maybe that says it all.

He didn't know where he was going but everyone else was going this way so he thought he may as well follow.

All of the other pegs looked like they knew each other. They were smiling and chatting as they walked, as if they didn't have a care in the world. No one talked to him. He walked along in silence, not sure if he was going the right way. Not even sure where it was he was heading.

Suddenly he noticed a commotion up ahead. All of the other pegs had stopped and had gathered around in a circle. As he drew nearer, he could hear excited chattering and laughing, punctuated at intervals by a loud cheer.

He approached the gathering and saw what had drawn everyone's attention. In the centre of the circle were three holes and the pegs were taking it in turns to throw themselves in to great cheers from the crowd. He didn't know where the holes led but everyone seemed keen to have their turn to jump in.

The crowd began to thin out in front of him and pressure from behind brought him to the front. It was his turn to jump.

He stepped forward cautiously. Which hole to choose? None of them looked quite right. There were impatient mutterings from behind him, he would have to make a decision. He chose the hole to his left, closed his eyes and jumped.

When he opened his eyes, he realised something had gone horribly wrong. He was stuck in the hole. He wriggled and writhed but it was no good, he couldn't go down.

Angry faces stared down at him. One of the pegs strode forward purposefully.

'What do you think you're doing?' said the round peg. 'This is a round hole and you're a square peg. You don't fit in here.'

'And don't think you can jump in one of the other holes,' said another peg approaching from his other side. 'This one here is for triangles and this one is for stars. We don't have any square holes here.'

The square peg went bright red with embarrassment and, with a great effort, managed to pull himself free and back out of the hole. Head bowed, he shuffled off away from the crowd to sit by himself on a rock.

'I don't fit in,' he moaned to himself. 'Why do I have to be different to everybody else?' He started to cry.

'Psst.'

The square peg looked around but couldn't see anything.

'Psst.'

There it was again. This time he saw a face from behind a tree. It was a square face just like his. The peg was beckoning him over. He jumped off the rock and trotted over.

'Hello there,' said the friendly square face. 'Have you been crying? What's wrong?'

'It's just that,' he sniffed, 'I didn't fit in. I was different to everybody else.'

'Oh, don't worry about that,' said the friendly face. 'Everybody’s different. Just because you didn't fit in there doesn't mean you can't fit in somewhere else.'

'It doesn't?' said the square peg.

'No, course not. In fact, I know just the place where you'll fit in nicely. Come on, follow me.'

And with that, the friendly face trotted off leaving the square peg running to keep up. After a few minutes, they came to another gathering, just like the one with the round holes.

'Not more holes,' said the square peg sadly.

'Ah,' said the friendly face. 'But these are different holes. Take a look.'

The square peg looked closer and to his surprise, the holes were not round, or triangular or even star shaped. He saw a rectangle and a hexagon. And there, right at the back, a square.

'Can I...' he started.

'Of course you can,' said the friendly face, beaming. 'Watch me.' And with that, the friendly face took a running start and jumped straight through the square hole.

The square peg squealed in delight. He ran forwards and looked down in the hole. He could hear music and laughter and saw, there at the bottom of the hole, the friendly face waving up at him.

'Come on down,' said the friendly face.

And so the square peg closed his eyes, jumped in the air and sailed straight through the hole, landing on his feet.

When he opened his eyes, the friendly face was waiting for him. And someone else was there.

'You made it!' said the round peg. 'Good for you. See, we all fit in somewhere. Come on, let's go join the party.'

And so the square peg went off with his friends to have fun at the peg party.

Daisy knew something was wrong. When the teacher asked her to leave the room and follow her to reception, her tummy felt all knotted up and her legs felt like jelly. Then she saw her mum.

Daisy didn't remember the details. As she sat in the car looking out of the window, all she could remember was that he was dead. Something about a car, and he was dead.

Diddles had been more than just a dog, he had been her best friend. They would play together everywhere. Her favourite game was to throw sticks in the park and watch Diddles run and get them.

They would eat their dinner together too. Diddles wasn't allowed at the table but Daisy would sneak her stinky green vegetables under the table cloth and Diddles would lick them out of her hand.

Later that night, Dad had sat Daisy down and explained everything to her. He had been running across the road and a car had hit him. He had died. He was up in doggy heaven now, looking down on Daisy and chasing rabbits in the field.

Mum and Dad kept asking her if she was alright. 'It's okay to cry sweetie,' mum had said.

'I know,' said Daisy. But she didn't. Not when her mum told her at school. Not when dad told her about doggy heaven. Not when mum packed away his bowl and blanket.

Over the next few days, mum and dad kept asking if she was okay, if she wanted to cry. When Daisy said no again, dad asked her, 'Do you understand what has happened?'

'Yes daddy,' said Daisy. 'Diddles has died.'

'And how do you feel about that?' asked dad.

Daisy shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'It's okay to cry,' said dad again.

'I know.'

***

It was two weeks later when mum noticed the picture was missing. She was cleaning the front room and it took her a moment before she realised something wasn't quite right. Then it hit her; the picture of Diddles wasn't on the windowsill any more. She looked behind the curtain, behind the sofa and even behind the television but she just couldn't find it. All she could see was a small shard of glass on the floor below where the picture had been.

'What are you looking for mummy?' asked Daisy as she walked into the room.

'Your favourite picture of Diddles is missing, the one where you are playing in the garden. Have you seen it?'

'No mummy,' said Daisy quickly, before running off upstairs and closing her door.

She climbed up onto her bed and lifted up her pillow to pick up the photo frame she had hidden there. The glass had cracked when she had dropped the frame trying to look at the picture. She sat there, staring so hard at the photo that she didn't hear the door open.

'It's okay to miss him, Daisy,' said mum as she came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to Daisy. 'I miss him too.'

Daisy looked up at mum. 'You do?'

'Yes, all the time. And it makes me very sad.'

'It does?'

'Yes of course it does, sweetie. Does it make you sad too?'

Daisy looked away, back to the picture.

'It's okay to be sad Daisy,' said mum.

'But it's too late to cry,' said Daisy.

'Oh sweetie, it's never too late to cry.'

And finally, as she sat with mum looking at the picture of Diddles, Daisy began to cry.

***

The next day, Daisy and mum went to the shop and bought a new frame for the photo. Daisy placed it carefully back onto the windowsill.

She was still looking at the photo an hour later when dad came home from work. He picked her up and kissed her head.

'You okay, sweetie?'

'Yes daddy,' said Daisy. 'But I miss Diddles and it makes me sad.'

Dad smiled. He reached up and wiped a small tear away from the corner of his eye. 'Me too sweetie, me too.'

Sally The Sheep lived with Mummy Sheep and Daddy Sheep in Grumblypots Farm.

Sally liked to run around the fields and chase the cows, baa at the ducks and lick the fingers of little children who came to visit the farm.

But what Sally loved to do most of all was eat grass.

She would eat grass for breakfast. She would eat grass for lunch. She would eat grass for dinner. She would even eat grass for pudding.

But one thing Sally didn’t like to do was share.

One morning, Gordon the Goat trotted into Sally’s field.

‘Can I have some of your grass?’ asked Gordon.

‘No,’ said Sally, as she munched on her grass.

Later that afternoon, Colin the Cow wandered up to Sally.

‘Wow,’ he said, ‘that grass looks really tasty. Can I please have some?’

‘No,’ said Sally, ‘it is all mine.’ And she munched and munched.

That evening, Robbie The Rabbit hopped into Sally’s field.

‘Hi Sally,’ said Robbie. ‘Mind if I have some of your grass?’

‘No, no, no!’ shouted Sally. ‘This is my grass. I’m going to eat it all!’

And with that she munched and she munched and she munched, eating as much grass as she could so that no one else could have any. That night, Sally went to bed with a big tummy full of grass.

‘Yum, yum,’ said Sally to herself. ‘I do love eating grass. Tomorrow I think I might have double helpings before anyone else asks me if they can have some.’

The next morning, Sally woke up early to make a start on the grass. But when she got to the field, all the grass was gone!

‘Mummy, daddy!’ cried Sally. ‘All my grass has gone! Where is my grass? What am I going to eat?’

Mummy Sheep trotted over. ‘Sally, you were so determined not to share your grass with anyone that you ate it all. Now you don’t have any left.’

Sally looked at Mummy Sheep. ‘But I’m so hungry,’ she bleated. ‘What will I have for my breakfast?’

‘Well Sally,’ said Daddy Sheep, ‘you will have to go and ask one of the other animals if they will share their grass with you.’

And so Sally set off down the path to find the other farm animals.

At the first field, she found Gordon The Goat.

‘Hello Gordon, may I please have some of your grass?’ asked Sally.

‘No,’ said Gordon, turning away from Sally and eating his grass.

Next, she found Colin The Cow.

‘Hi Colin, you have lots of lovely grass here. May I please have some,’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Colin. ‘This grass is mine.’

It was getting late and Sally was starting to feel really hungry now so she trotted over to Robbie The Rabbit.

‘Robbie, Robbie, I’m so hungry. Won’t you please share your grass with me?’ she asked.

‘No, no, no,’ said Robbie, hopping across the field.

Sally trudged away. She was so hungry. She had been walking all day and hadn’t had a thing to eat. She didn’t understand why no one would share with her. She sat down and started to cry.

Just then, a little voice piped up. ‘What’s the matter Sally?’ It was Deborah The Deer.

‘Oh Deborah,’ sobbed Sally. ‘I ate all my grass and now there is none left. No one else will share with me and I’m so hungry.’

‘Well,’ said Deborah, ‘you cannot expect someone to share with you if you don’t share with them.’

Sally looked up at Deborah. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you are right. It was selfish and mean of me to eat all of the grass by myself. Oh I wish, I wish that I still had some grass and I would share it with the whole farm.’

Deborah smiled. ‘I think you have learnt your lesson,’ said Deborah. ‘Here, you can share my grass.’

Sally stopped crying and gave Deborah a big kiss on the cheek before munching on some grass. ‘Oh thank you Deborah,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘I will only eat as much as I need, I don’t want to be greedy.’ And after eating her dinner, Sally wandered back to her field.

The next morning, Sally was woken with a start. It was Mummy Sheep.

‘Sally, come look, your grass has grown back.’

Sally rushed out to the field and saw green, green grass growing across the hills.

‘Wow,’ she said, ‘look at all that grass.’

But before eating any of it, she started off down the path.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Daddy Sheep. ‘Don’t you want to eat your grass?’

‘Back in a minute, shouted Sally over her shoulder.

As she walked down the path, she found Gordon the Goat.

‘Gordon, I have some lovely new grass in my field, won’t you come and eat some with me?’

And before he could answer, she was off until she found Colin The Cow.

‘Colin, oh Colin, I have some lovely new grass in my field, please do come and share it with me.’ And as Colin looked up shocked, Sally set off down the path again until she found Robbie The Rabbit.

‘Robbie, I have lots of new grass, there is far too much for me.’ And then she was off down the path.

Finally, she found Deborah The Deer.

‘Hello Sally, what are you doing here?’ asked Deborah.

‘Oh Deborah,’ said Sally. ‘All my grass has grown back and there is far too much for me so I have invited all my friends to come and eat it with me. Won’t you come and join us?’

Deborah smiled and nodded and together they walked back to Sally’s field where Gordon, Colin and Robbie were eating the grass.

‘Sharing is fun,’ said Sally, smiling as she ate her grass. ‘I will never be selfish again.’

Daisy was putting on her pyjamas and getting ready for bed when she looked out of the window and noticed the moon.

'Mummy, where does the moon go in the morning?'

'It goes to bed, sweetie,' said mummy. 'It gets tired being up all night.'

Daisy chewed her lip. 'But where does it go?' asked Daisy again. 'Does the sun chase it away?'

'Yes Daisy. The sun and the moon chase each other round the sky.'

Daisy thought that sounded exciting. 'Wow, I wish I could go and watch. Can we go and watch mummy?'

'No Daisy,' smiled mummy. 'You would need to build a rocket ship to go into space.'

'Aww,' signed Daisy.

'Now come on,' said mummy, 'time for bed.' Daisy climbed into bed and mummy gave her a kiss goodnight. Her little puppy, Diddles, curled up to sleep at the bottom of her bed. But Daisy couldn't get to sleep. She was too busy thinking about the moon and the sun chasing each other around.

She waited until she heard mummy was back downstairs and then wriggled out of her sheets to the end of the bed to look out of the window. The moon was there in the sky, shining bright. 'Oh moon,' she said out loud. 'Where do you go when the sun chases you?'

Then, to Daisy's surprise, a face appeared on the moon; two eyes, a big nose and a smiley mouth. Daisy rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming but sure enough, there was the face smiling back at her.

'Diddles, wake up!' said Daisy. 'There is a face in the moon!' Diddles raised his head to look. 'Let's build a rocket ship and fly up to the moon!'

And without waiting for a reply, Daisy jumped out of bed and pulled open her cupboard door. She started pulling out toys and dollies until she found what she was looking for. It was a big piece of card. She folded it up into a tube and stuck it together with glue. Then, she found a pair of fairy wings and stuck them to the side of the tube. Reaching back into the cupboard, she found her pack of big crayons and coloured in the card, drawing some buttons and controls for flying the ship.

She stood back to admire her work. 'Hmm, not bad,' she said. 'But we need a lid for the rocket.' She looked around and spotted her dusty old wizard doll sitting in the corner. She took off his big pointed hat and climbed into the tube. 'Come on Diddles, in you get.' Diddles bounced in to the tube and Daisy pulled the hat over the top of them.

'Okay Diddles, are you ready to go to the moon?' asked Daisy.

'Woof, woof,' said Diddles.

Daisy pressed some of the buttons she had coloured but then suddenly jumped up with a start. 'Oh, no!' she exclaimed. Then she leapt out of the rocket, hopped onto the bed and opened the window. 'That's better,' said Daisy. 'Next stop the moon!'

And to Diddles surprise, the tube started to shake and before he knew it, he and Daisy had blasted out of the bedroom window, up into the sky, up and up and up until they reached the moon where they landed with a thud.

Daisy took the lid off and climbed out with Diddles bounding after her. 'Wow, we really did it Diddles,' said Daisy excitedly. 'We're on the moon!'

'Woof, woof,' said Diddles.

'Come on, let's have a look around.'

Daisy and Diddles set off to explore the moon. It was very strange, full of deep craters and big mountains. But no matter how far they went, they couldn't find the smiley face that had winked at them in Daisy's bedroom.

'Oh Diddles, how are we going to find out what happens to the moon when the sun comes up?' asked Daisy, sitting down dejectedly on a rock.

'I can help you with that,' said a little voice.

Daisy looked up, startled. From behind a rock a little man appeared. He was a strange looking fellow, dressed head to toe in cheese.

'Who are you?' asked Daisy. 'Why are you dressed in cheese?'

'Ho, ho,' chuckled the little man. 'I'm the Man In The Moon. And I'm not dressed in cheese, I'm made of cheese!'

'Wow,' said Daisy. 'Can you tell me where the moon goes when the sun comes up?'

'Oh yes,' said the Man In The Moon. 'Come on, follow me and I'll show you.' And with that, he skipped off across the moon and jumped down a crater. Daisy and Diddles jumped down after him.

'Welcome to my steering room,' said the Man In The Moon. The room was very small, just barely big enough for all three of them. There was a television on the wall and a big clock and in the centre of the room, a little bicycle. 'This clock tells me when it is time to go to sleep and the television lets me see where we're going. And this,' he patted the bicycle, 'let's me steer the moon.'

'Wow,' said Daisy. 'Can I steer the moon? Oh please, can I?'

'Ho, ho. Alright then. It's nearly time we were going anyway. On you get.' So Daisy hopped onto the little bike and started to pedal whilst the Man In The Moon helped her to steer.

'Here we are,' he said, as Daisy stopped the bike.

'But where are we?' said Daisy.

'Ho, ho. We're hiding from the sun on the other side of the world. At the end of the day, we'll sneak up behind her and shout 'Boo!' and then we can play in the sky all night long.' He looked at the clock. 'But my goodness, look at the time. You had best be getting home.'

'Oh, but can't I stay just a little while longer?' pleaded Daisy.

'I'm afraid not Daisy,' said The Man In The Moon. 'But don't be sad, perhaps you can come back another day.'

And so Daisy and Diddles left the Man In The Moon and returned to their ship and then blasted off, back through the sky, back through the window and back into Daisy's bedroom.

'Quick Diddles,' said Daisy, 'back into bed before mummy comes to get us up.' And so Daisy and Diddles climbed back into bed and lay down to sleep.

In the morning, mummy came in to wake them up.

'Mummy, oh mummy, you'll never believe what happened,' said Daisy. 'I built a rocket ship and we flew to the moon!'

'Oh, you and your imagination, Daisy,' said mummy, chuckling.

'No really mummy,' insisted Daisy. 'We met the Man In The Moon and he was made of cheese and we drove the moon and hid from the sun all the way on the other side of the world! It was brilliant!'

'Well that sounds like a wonderful dream,' said mummy. 'Now up you get, time for breakfast then you can go and play.'

But Daisy didn't feel like playing. Surely it couldn't all have been just a dream. Could it?

That night, she put on her pyjamas and climbed into bed. When mummy had gone downstairs, she crept to the end of the bed and looked up at the moon. But there was no face looking back at her.

She turned to look at Diddles. 'Oh Diddles, did I really just dream it all?' she asked, glumly.

'Woof, woof,' said Diddles.

Daisy turned back to look at the moon. And to her surprise, the smiley face was looking back at her. And as she watched, the smiley face winked before setting off across the sky.

Millie and Molly were two little monkeys who lived in the jungle. They were twin sisters and they did everything together. They would swing, climb and play together. They would even scratch each other when one was itchy.

One day, Millie and Molly were play fighting. 'Make sure you stay close to home,' Mummy Monkey had said. ‘There are lots of dangerous animals in the jungle. There are slithery snakes, hungry hippos, loud lions and lots more besides.' But they had swung all over the jungle, from tree to tree, until they were very far from home.

'Wow, look at that tree!' said Millie. 'Let's climb up that one.' It was the biggest tree in the jungle. If you got to the top, you could see over the whole jungle.

'No Molly,' said Millie. 'I'm not sure where we are. That tree looks really tall and dangerous. I think we should head back to home.'

'Don't be such a baby Molly,' said Millie and started swinging and climbing up the tree. Millie had no choice but to follow, she wasn't sure she could find her way back home by herself. And she didn't want to leave Molly all alone.

'Molly, come back, it's too high,' said Millie. But Molly kept climbing and climbing, so Millie followed her all the way to the top of the tree.

'Wow, look at that,' said Molly. They could see the whole jungle from up here. 'Let's swing over to those trees,' she said excitedly.

'No Molly,' said Millie. She wasn't as sure footed as Molly and she was feeling very nervous this high up. 'Please let's go down now, I am frightened.'

'Come on, said Molly, ‘follow me.' And she started swinging and climbing further and further away from home.

Millie tried to follow but as she tried to swing onto the next tree, she lost her grip. 'Molly, help!' she cried as she fell and started tumbling down the tree, all the way down to the jungle floor.

'Oh Millie!' cried Molly, 'This is all my fault.' And she started climbing down the tree to find her lost sister.

***

Meanwhile, on the jungle floor, Millie sat up, holding her head. 'Ow, that hurt,' she said to herself. She looked around. 'Where am I?' She had never been this far into the forest before and was lost. 'I know,' she said to herself, 'I'll climb back up this tree until I get high enough to see where I am and which way home is.' But as she went to climb, she saw that the tree trunk was too tall and slippery. She couldn't climb up.

'Oh no, how am I going to find my way home?'

'Are you lost?' Millie turned at the sound of the voice just in time to see a snake slithering out of the bushes. Millie had never seen a snake before but Mummy Monkey had told her they could be dangerous.

'Oh please don't eat me mister snake,' pleaded Millie, sobbing. 'I'm just a little monkey, lost all this way from home.'

The slithery snake slithered up to Millie. 'Don't cry,' he said, 'I'm not going to eat you. My name is Sam, what's your name?'

'M-Millie,' the little monkey replied between sobs.

'Well Millie, let's see if we can find your way back home.'

'But I don't know where I am,' cried Millie. 'I was following my sister and got lost.'

'It's okay,' said Sam. 'We'll go and ask my friend Harry the Hippo, he'll know what to do. And so Millie and Sam set off deeper into the jungle to find Harry the Hippo.

Meanwhile, Molly had managed to climb all the way down the tree. She slid down the long trunk. 'Millie, Millie!' she called. But Millie wasn't there. 'Oh Millie, where are you? If anything has happened to you it will be all my fault. I should have listened to Mummy.'

Just then, she heard a rustling through the bushes. Turning with a start, she saw a head poke its way through the bushes. Its mouth opened and it let out a fearsome roar. It was a lion!

'Oh mister lion, please don't eat me, I'm just a little monkey!' cried Molly.

'Roar! I'm not going to eat you,' said the lion. 'My name is Lemmy the Lion. You must be a long way from home. Are you lost?'

'Yes,' sobbed Molly. 'My name is Molly. I was playing with my sister Millie and she fell from the big tree. Now I don't know where she is and we're both lost. Oh won't you please help me mister lion?'

Lemmy the Lion roared and shook his mane. 'Of course I'll help you,' he said. 'Now, let's see if we can find where she went.' And Lemmy started looking around the floor and sniffing for a trace of Millie. 'This way!' he declared, taking off through the bushes, Molly sprinting behind trying to keep up.

They walked for hours and Molly was starting to get tired. She wasn't used to doing this much walking, she preferred swinging and climbing. And they seemed to be going deeper and deeper into the jungle. 'Are we nearly there?' she asked Lemmy.

'Not far now,' replied Lemmy.

But Molly was starting to get worried. She thought that Lemmy might have been leading her into a trap, ready to eat her. She got ready to turn and run when Lemmy suddenly announced, 'There they are!'

Millie looked up and saw that they had reached a big lagoon. All around the lagoon were big, muddy Hippos. And there, right in the middle, was Millie!

'Millie, oh Millie,' shouted Molly as she sprinted towards her sister.

Millie looked up and smiled, giving her sister a great big hug as she ran up to her. 'I'm so sorry,' said Molly. I never should have made you come all the way into the jungle and I never should have made you climb that big tree. I should have listened to Mummy. '

'It's okay,' said Millie. 'Harry the Hippo knows the way back home. Molly looked up and saw a big grey face looking at her.

'Hello,' said the grey face. 'You must be Molly. My name is Harry the Hippo, nice to meet you.'

Molly was a little scared but Millie assured her that Harry was going to help them.

'I have explored every inch of this jungle looking for the best bath,' said Harry. I know just the way back to your home. Come on, follow me.'

And Millie and Molly set off with Harry the Hippo, Sam the Snake and Lemmy the Lion. They went through great big thick bushes and past great big trees, past squawking birds and tall giraffe, past gorillas and leopards, elephants and tigers.

Finally, Millie and Molly found that they had come all the way back home. Mummy Monkey and Daddy Monkey were hopping mad. 'Millie! Molly! Where have you been? What are you doing with these dangerous animals?' said Mummy Monkey.

'It's all my fault,' said Molly. 'I made Millie go deep into the jungle and climb the biggest tree we could find. Then she fell and got lost and I had to try and find her. Sam, Lemmy and Harry helped us all the way back home.’

Mummy Monkey looked at Sam, Lemmy and Harry, who bowed. 'It was our pleasure,' said Harry, and they turned and walked back into the jungle.

'You were very lucky that you weren't eaten!' said Mummy Monkey.

'I know mummy, we promise that we will always listen to you in future.' And Millie and Molly gave their mummy and daddy a cuddle, had their tea and went to bed.

***

The next morning, Millie and Molly went outside to play.

'Remember, don't wander too far,' shouted Mummy Monkey.

'We won't,' replied Millie and Molly together.

When they had climbed one of the trees close to home, Millie said to Molly, 'So, where shall we go today.'

'Well,' said Molly with a mischievous look in her eye,' Lemmy told me about this really big tree on the other side of the forest...