I’ve been engaged in a long and major sort out of ‘stuff’, and am now opening boxes of things from my past, which all (well mostly) seem very dear to me. (When you first lose someone, all things seem worthless, because you would’ve given every last possession to save someone’s life; but now I feel like my possessions are precious – I haven’t got him any more, but I’ve still got my things.)
I’ve found lots of old children’s books and have just re-read one called Wish For A Pony. I can tell from my own handwriting in the front of it that I read it very young, yet the writing style seems so adult and highbrow, you can’t believe a child would have understood it all. Look at some of this vocabulary:
“The girls’ eyes paid silent homage to…”
“…no room in their burdened minds…”
“…with hearty determination.”
“…until it was abruptly terminated…”
“…wallowed placidly forward…”
“…handing over the disreputable parcel…”
“She rummaged obligingly…”
“Tamzin trailed dejectedly…”
“I’ll guarantee them as absolutely immaculate.”
So I’m reading this, when in my kiddy handwriting I’ve misspelled ‘white’ as ‘whight’? I guess that’s how you learn the language and become literate, though, by learning new words from the context.
Maybe it’s just that the writing is old-fashioned, compared to today:
“’I say!’ breathed Rissa on the threshold. ‘This is smashing!’”
Anyway, there are two girls in the book and they ride two ponies at a stables on the beach – one called Sea Pie (bay), the other Cobweb (grey).
On the same day as I found the book, I also came across two little souvenir ponies/donkeys from Corfu, made out of leather. One is brown and one is grey, so naturally they have become Sea Pie and Cobweb.
It’s sad how I’m reverting to childhood. It’s something to do with needing/getting comfort wherever you can.
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