I may wear a short-sleeved T-shirt today. I wrote in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary: Even though all the fund-raising plans are mad, at least we’re doing something. We’re fighting back. We’re fighting for our slippers. All right I can’t sing or act or dance or—well anything—but maybe I can do an owl-based performance. Yes, yes, I can train Lullah and Ruby to do something. A “guess how much poo an owlet can poo in ten minutes” competition. Or I could put different hats or wigs on them as famous historical figures. The hats would have to be little. A little pirate’s hat or a Cleopatra wig. Dibdobs could knit them. Or Matilda could tap-dance on a tin tray. I could make the tappy noises with castanets. That should make a few quid before she fell off the tray. More ideas later. I’m going to pop down to see the owlets after school for inspiration, and I’ll call for my fun-sized mate Ruby. Connie, the mother owl, will be out night hunting. I hope. I definitely don’t want a repeat of what happened when Alex came with me to see them, and Connie swooped down unexpectedly from the barn roof.
What do You think about A Midsummer Tight's Dream?
