a little less than the girl next door (in_transit) wrote,
a little less than the girl next door

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of the five-find outers and dog

i wanna tell you about when i was eight, and i read enid blyton's the five find-outers and dog. it's a children's mystery and adventure book, and the five find-outers included fatty, who's frederick algernon trotville (f.a.t. in short); who's, for one, fat, and the brainiest of the lot -- their leader. then there was larry and daisy, a brother and sister pair, both really great and nice siblings... larry's the oldest of the lot, and daisy's somewhere in the middle i guess. the last two is another brother and sister pair -- pip and bets. pip is short for phillip and bets' short for elizabeth, or betty, whatever. pip's the same age as daisy and bets' the youngest, only eight. i always identified with bets... i was her age when i first started reading about them, and in the book she was always being pushed around by her older brother pip, who's twelve i guess... the same age gap as me and my sister (in good english, my sister and i). bets looked up to fatty (yeah i know that name's dumb!) and she adored him. well, who wouldn't? fatty was the brain of the lot and solved the most part of the mysteries, with the help of the rest of the gang. there are altogether 13 books in the entire series.... i should think i've got about 12of them. i still haven't forgotten the mysteries, what happened, the most part of them all. perhaps my mind has given up on the fine details, well, not all, really... but it was an unforgettable reading experience. i loved it, from eight all the way 'til i was about thirteen i guess (that must have been fatty's age!). i still wish i could just pick up the books and read them now, but constraints set in, such as german homework, housework now that the maid's on holiday, the need to practice for my sats, the tempting computer etc. etc.

think about it, once upon a time, long long ago, where there were no computers, or hardly ever, or before the internet existed in our lives, when we were small kids with too much time on our hands, what did we do? well, i for one, read. there was seriously nothing better to do each day. any time i didn't wanna do math sums, xi2 zi4, learn ting1 xie3 or stuff, i'd pick up a book and read. and reading only involves reclining on the sofa, on my stomach on the bed, mostly with a bag of chips or some other food... and children's books were easy to read, fast to finish, seldom ever draggy and longwinded, without underlying meanings and stuff... where heroes reigned, the good never die, the bad were always defeated and practically everyone was morally upright...... but as we grow, we read elsewhere that enid blyton was actually a mean scheming old woman who tortured her husband emotionally and had affairs outside of her marriage, that her books contained racism and white superiority, that she propagated this and that... thing's don't seem as perfect as they used to be... now we have to try and read between lines even when reviewing kiddy books, every little thing could signify something, else. teletubbies are satanic, barney is gay, power puff girls defy authority...... what's all that? i don't know. well ernie and bert could pretty well have been gays too, they slept together didn't they? and the prince in sleeping beauty took liberties with a poor defenceless girl in a coma... goodness knows what else he did to her. donald duck could have been a gigolo or something (nan2 ji4 is it? duck what!) and ninja turtles -- how can they teach our kids to admire dirty creatures who live under drains and eat pizzas all their lives? life is so so warped.

well i didn't think i had anything left in me to update the journal about. after all, i'm not working, nothing very significant hardly happens in my life nowadays... really nothing to update. but i don't like to see my journal languishing like that, with a mere thirty-something entries blah blah. so i was walking around the empty (of people except me) house, looking at all the stuff we were springcleaning, then i saw the find-outer books, recently moved out of their shelves, and thought i would remind myself of them by writing a little. i don't wanna throw those books away... but i might have to, sadly. i actually intended to write on roald dahl too, but i didn't realise one small thought of mine, penned down (or typed out) could produce so many words and sentences and paragraphs. i guess matilda, danny (who's the champion of the world), those incorrigible witches and boy have all to wait. :)

ps: the dog was a little black scottish terrier called buster, and he loved to dig for rabbits in rabbit holes, tho he could never reach them...

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