This is the time of year when school children up and down the land are required to produce an essay, project or even, God help us, art homework on the subject of What I Did On My Holiday.
They are supposed to have had some wonderful new experience to share with their grateful class mates. At least, I suppose that’s the idea.
Might be a bit of a damp squib this year, I’d say. For a lot of people, anyway. But for some of us it was always torture.
Not necessarily because you’d had a bad holiday, either. Just because of the impossibility of a) selection and b) giving enough context without boring the pants off your class mates. Ten-year-olds make a tough audience. I speak from experience.
Except once.
What I Did on My Holiday at Christmas
Me? I’d spent my holiday reading.
Well, I loved books and that’s what people gave me for Christmas. That year, I had netted a particularly fine haul: The Scarlet Pimpernel, Robin Hood and A Little Princess, as well as assorted school and children’s adventure stories.
Robin Hood, which was a very old copy from a beloved godparent’s own shelf, turned out to be the most fruitful.
So what did I tell my class mates I’d done on my holiday?
Gone skiing? I hadn’t but others had and I could have plagiarised, if I wanted. Only it sounded cold and a bit frightening to me.
Been to the pantomime? I certainly had and I liked it, especially staying up late. But the parents’ behaviour had been embarrassing. They’d shouted “Look behind you,” a lot and giggled like maniacs. Not really for sharing.
In quite a lot of detail, actually. Well, I’d been playing it for a week at least, by then. I’d built a whole world and several new characters.
What I Did on My Holiday – Audience Response
The teacher wasn’t impressed. I’d overrun my time and I’d shown off. (She was probably right there.) Even worse, I’d used a sneery voice for the wicked baron, deliberately trying to make the other children laugh.
Nobody agreed with her. I knew the difference between play stories and lies and so did my class mates. Several of them even wanted the next instalment. (We took it out into the playground, the week after, well away from the Thought Police.)
In the autumn term I was back to plugging away grimly at an evidence-based What I Did on My Holiday.
But I think that may just have been when I first realised that I really, really wanted people to enjoy my stories.
What I Did on My Holiday by Twoflower
His daughter tracks him down to prison and recruits a hard crew of geriatrics and an incompetent wizard, Rincewind, to break him out. (Pratchett always has a soft spot for healthy cowardice and genuine incompetence.) Rincewind, you will remember, had inherited Twoflower’s homicidal Luggage, made of sapient pear wood and pure aggression.
As an added bonus, the defeat of one of the nastiest villains in Pratchett makes this a thoroughly satisfying tale. Well worth reading, if you’re in a mood to throw things, or kill some politician moaning about Unprecedented Times.
Loved the story, Sophie, which made me laugh. Down with the Thought Police, I say.
And an apology to readers not in UK or US. Sadly the bargain offer on Beach Hut Surprise isn’t available except in UK and US. Maybe, one day, Amazon will extend the Countdown Deal feature to other markets. We live in hope.
I should have said that, Joanna. Thank you.
I love that luggage! It’s my favourite bit of Rincewind tales. The geriatric heroes are a delight too. I confess I am more a fan of the guard tales, but anything Pratchett is a gift to the reading elbow.
I would have loved your story in that class. Down with the Thought Police indeed. They don’t get the value of daydreaming either!
I really love the Luggage. Especially when he meets his soul mate. Very funny and also rather touching.
I haven’t read enough Pratchett. I shall have to invest in more, as your Adventures in Sherwood are no longer available.
After the Virus we’ll do New Adventures in Sherwood in a playground-substitute somewhere, Lesley!
I so loved this post, Sophie. Brought back fond memories of imaginary swords, capes and horses in playground games. Surprised at teacher. I’d have thought she would have welcomed the entertainment after the usual round of desperate offerings. Thankfully she did not crush your imagination.
Looking back, I think she was a tired and dispirited woman who was bullied a lot, especially by the Headmistress, a fearsome woman with scarlet nails and snappy, mean little eyes who terrorised all the parents as well as her staff.
I think she was probably trying to fulfil her brief according the Headmistress and probably wasn’t long off retirement. Compared with the teachers I’ve known since, including my own generation and subsequent, I wouldn’t say she was ever a natural teacher, either.