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At Nanny’s House


Follow the lane up from Poppy’s beach and you’ll come to Nanny’s house. You can’t miss the house because it stands alone in the garden and it’s painted a glorious dory-buff.

In At Nanny’s House [Tuckamore Books] Susan Pynn Taylor has an unnamed Townie kid visit her grandmother out around the bay, suggesting — p’raps — that’s where all good grannies live, or ought to live to allow city youngsters a rural setting where they can experience some quality nanny time.
Immediately after giving Nanny a hug, Missy runs off to see the animals — cows and sheep and a billygoat who promptly commences to munch on the sleeve of the youngster’s jacket.
Despite cautions from Nanny, I bet Missy put her jacket in harm’s way, eh b’ys?
Nanny takes Missy to the hens’ yard to collect the eggs. Like a wild thing let loose, Missy tears around the yard frightening the feathers off the poor ol’ hens that flee her threatening hugs.
Oh my, a long dormant brain cell just rolled out of bed and I heard my own bay-born grannie bawling out to me: “Harry, stop chasing the hens! You’ll make them stop laying!”
Luckily Nanny collects a basket of eggs before the feathers fly. Tomorrow the nest might be empty.
Turn the page.
In the kitchen, Nanny and Missy are making a pie. Surprise! Missy drops an egg — still warm from a fully-feather fowl — on the floor where its splatter causes Puss to look perturbed.
Take a peep at Nanny’s kitchen counter. Look there beside the sink. I believe that’s one of those expensive KitchenAid blenders.
Truly.
Turn another page and notice the face on Puss.
Heedlessly, Missy overloads a slice of bread with ’lassie, the overflow landing splot, splot, splot between Puss’ ears.
A smarter cat would scat.
Flip pages.
Missy breaks a string while fooling around with Poppy’s [?] violin, an accident witnessed by the judgmental eyes of great-great grandparents nailed to the wall in an oval frame.
And she knocks over a can of paint while rooting around in the cubby under the stairs.
And she frightens Nanny into heart palpitations by sliding arse-foremost down the banister. Yet, she finds time to “make a scarf for Nanny.”
Size up that scarf.
In one of David Sturge’s illustrations Nanny has it looped around her neck. It has a couple of big holes in it but Nanny doesn’t seem to mind.
She busy knitting a … well, let’s hope she’s knitting socks for Poppy, whose left big toe is sticking out in another illustration.
I just noticed this: Missy is playing on a tire swing. Two sheep are nibbling grass nearby. A lone hen is scratching for grit. I bet Missy left a gate open and the critters seized the opportunity for free range goodies.
Youngsters, b’y!
Another page.
Nanny and Missy sit cuddled in an armchair. Puss is nearby, none the worse for being ’lassied. Nanny is reading Missy a copy of On Poppy’s Beach. [Nothing wrong with a bit of product placement or whatever it’s called, eh b’ys. Even Stephen King does it.]
Finally, finally, it’s bedtime: “Nanny tucks me in and pulls the quilt up to my chin.”
Last page.
Missy is sound asleep snuggled with her teddy bear. The time-piece on the night table shows 9:00 p.m.. Not especially late for a summer night but Missy’s boundless energy has overwhelmed Nanny and it’s late enough to have Missy sailing off to slumber land in a wooden shoe.
An aside: Hands up if you remember the nursery rhyme in the allusion. “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, sailed off in a wooden shoe…”
Back to the page.
Nanny’s bedroom door is ajar. Nanny is keeled out flat on her back, worn to a frazzle by Missy’s antics. She has conked out without even removing her glasses…
…Poppy, meantime, has kept the light on and is reading his book. At the risk of having rocks hove at me, I have to wonder what book Poppy is reading. I hope it isn’t that new one on the go — Grey the sequel to the Shades of Grey trilogy — thinking he has bought a yarn about seniors.
Ducking! Ducking the rocks!
Go back to Missy’s night table. See the rag doll lodged against the lamp? Don’t you think it looks a wee bit voodoo-ish? Or is that just my curmudgeon thinking as a result of … well, as a result of youngsters, b’y?
Hey, don’t mind me. If you had fun on Poppy’s beach, you’ll have more fun at Nanny’s house.
Thank you for reading.

Harold Walters lives Happily Ever After in Dunville, in the only Canadian province with its own time zone. How cool is that? Reach him at ghwalters663@gmail.com

In At Nanny’s House [Tuckamore Books] Susan Pynn Taylor has an unnamed Townie kid visit her grandmother out around the bay, suggesting — p’raps — that’s where all good grannies live, or ought to live to allow city youngsters a rural setting where they can experience some quality nanny time.
Immediately after giving Nanny a hug, Missy runs off to see the animals — cows and sheep and a billygoat who promptly commences to munch on the sleeve of the youngster’s jacket.
Despite cautions from Nanny, I bet Missy put her jacket in harm’s way, eh b’ys?
Nanny takes Missy to the hens’ yard to collect the eggs. Like a wild thing let loose, Missy tears around the yard frightening the feathers off the poor ol’ hens that flee her threatening hugs.
Oh my, a long dormant brain cell just rolled out of bed and I heard my own bay-born grannie bawling out to me: “Harry, stop chasing the hens! You’ll make them stop laying!”
Luckily Nanny collects a basket of eggs before the feathers fly. Tomorrow the nest might be empty.
Turn the page.
In the kitchen, Nanny and Missy are making a pie. Surprise! Missy drops an egg — still warm from a fully-feather fowl — on the floor where its splatter causes Puss to look perturbed.
Take a peep at Nanny’s kitchen counter. Look there beside the sink. I believe that’s one of those expensive KitchenAid blenders.
Truly.
Turn another page and notice the face on Puss.
Heedlessly, Missy overloads a slice of bread with ’lassie, the overflow landing splot, splot, splot between Puss’ ears.
A smarter cat would scat.
Flip pages.
Missy breaks a string while fooling around with Poppy’s [?] violin, an accident witnessed by the judgmental eyes of great-great grandparents nailed to the wall in an oval frame.
And she knocks over a can of paint while rooting around in the cubby under the stairs.
And she frightens Nanny into heart palpitations by sliding arse-foremost down the banister. Yet, she finds time to “make a scarf for Nanny.”
Size up that scarf.
In one of David Sturge’s illustrations Nanny has it looped around her neck. It has a couple of big holes in it but Nanny doesn’t seem to mind.
She busy knitting a … well, let’s hope she’s knitting socks for Poppy, whose left big toe is sticking out in another illustration.
I just noticed this: Missy is playing on a tire swing. Two sheep are nibbling grass nearby. A lone hen is scratching for grit. I bet Missy left a gate open and the critters seized the opportunity for free range goodies.
Youngsters, b’y!
Another page.
Nanny and Missy sit cuddled in an armchair. Puss is nearby, none the worse for being ’lassied. Nanny is reading Missy a copy of On Poppy’s Beach. [Nothing wrong with a bit of product placement or whatever it’s called, eh b’ys. Even Stephen King does it.]
Finally, finally, it’s bedtime: “Nanny tucks me in and pulls the quilt up to my chin.”
Last page.
Missy is sound asleep snuggled with her teddy bear. The time-piece on the night table shows 9:00 p.m.. Not especially late for a summer night but Missy’s boundless energy has overwhelmed Nanny and it’s late enough to have Missy sailing off to slumber land in a wooden shoe.
An aside: Hands up if you remember the nursery rhyme in the allusion. “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, sailed off in a wooden shoe…”
Back to the page.
Nanny’s bedroom door is ajar. Nanny is keeled out flat on her back, worn to a frazzle by Missy’s antics. She has conked out without even removing her glasses…
…Poppy, meantime, has kept the light on and is reading his book. At the risk of having rocks hove at me, I have to wonder what book Poppy is reading. I hope it isn’t that new one on the go — Grey the sequel to the Shades of Grey trilogy — thinking he has bought a yarn about seniors.
Ducking! Ducking the rocks!
Go back to Missy’s night table. See the rag doll lodged against the lamp? Don’t you think it looks a wee bit voodoo-ish? Or is that just my curmudgeon thinking as a result of … well, as a result of youngsters, b’y?
Hey, don’t mind me. If you had fun on Poppy’s beach, you’ll have more fun at Nanny’s house.
Thank you for reading.

Harold Walters lives Happily Ever After in Dunville, in the only Canadian province with its own time zone. How cool is that? Reach him at ghwalters663@gmail.com

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