A Prairie as Wide as the Sea Read online

  November 21

  Question of the Day

  My question for Mr. Ambrose today was, can music be wicked? He said that was going to take a lot of reading and thinking.

  November 22

  Chocolate Bomb

  Today one of the little boys, Thorvald Berg, who is in grade one, put his tin pail of cocoa on the stove at school to heat up and he forgot to take the lid off a bit. In the middle of the grade six spelling drill it exploded. It was just like a gunshot. We all jumped out of our seats. Then there was a mess to clean up. Thorvald cried but Miss Hutchinson gave him some of her cocoa. Later she caught all the little ones banging down the lids of their pails, hoping they would explode too.

  November 23

  Travel on the Pink Bits

  I’ve got my diary at school. This isn’t exactly allowed. But Miss Hutchinson is busy with the little ones and the times tables so I don’t think she will notice. We are supposed to be doing a grammar drill but I’m planning a round-the-world trip by looking at the big map. All the countries of the British Empire are pink so I’m hopping from one pink country to another. Here I go:

  Canada, Newfoundland, United Kingdom (stop off to see Chivers and Auntie Lou and Uncle Alf and Auntie Millie and Baby Jack), Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus, Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, Seychelles, India, Ceylon, Malaya, Borneo, Australia, Papua, Naura, Ellice Islands.

  Later, at home

  I was having such a good time on my journey that I didn’t notice Nyla Snoop-Face Tattle-Tale Muir. She stopped by my desk on her way to the water pail and said, “Could you help me with the grammar drill? Oh, what a pretty notebook,” in a voice loud enough for Miss Hutchinson to hear. So of course I got found out on the Ellice Islands and never got to Tristan da Cunha or back to Milorie.

  Nyla is a pain in the you know where.

  November 24

  Talents

  Today Miss Hutchinson said that everybody is good at something. I looked around and wondered if this were true. Hans is good at driving a car. Abel is good at making people laugh. Elizabeth is good at drawing. Gladys is good at reading. Nyla is good at being poisonous. George McLaren can stand up on the back of his horse. But then I looked at Vera Battrum. She isn’t good at school, spelling, skipping, singing, running or sewing. I don’t think Miss Hutchinson is right. This could be a question for Mr. Ambrose.

  November 25

  A Second Opinion

  Mr. Ambrose says this isn’t really an encyclopedia question but in his opinion Miss Hutchinson is right. But he doesn’t know Vera.

  I know that Mother thinks that I’m not good at anything. But I am. I’m good at all of these:

  1. Thinking of questions. (Mr. Ambrose says so.)

  2. Having good bones. (Lorayne says so.)

  3. Making up stories to scare myself. (I say so.)

  November 26

  Defeat

  I’m wrong. Vera is good at something. Today she brought some nuts to school. She can crack them with her bare teeth.

  December 4

  Fairy Guest or How to Get Out of Serving Breakfast

  A new guest in the hotel. He is a farm equipment salesman. He has hair growing out of his ears. I told Gladys that that meant he has fairy blood. Now Gladys is mad keen to serve his breakfast because she wants to be there in case he does something magic.

  December 6

  No Cowboy Christmas

  This afternoon we didn’t have arithmetic drill. Instead Miss Hutchinson said it was time to begin planning the Christmas concert. Ralph asked if they could do Cowboy Christmas again. Miss Hutchinson asked what was Cowboy Christmas. Then everybody talked about last year when they did a skit where cowboys sit around a campfire singing Christmas carols. They had a real fire lit on the ashpan but Ralph’s crepe paper chaps caught fire and Nels had to throw the pot of coffee over him to put it out. Ralph said it was keen and then he started singing, “Yippee-i-o, Ho ho ho,” and everybody joined in. Then Miss Hutchinson had to bang her pointer on her desk. “No cowboys this year,” she said.

  Then she told us that this year we’re going to do an acrostic act. She’s going to write the letters of Santa Claus on big pieces of paper. (Santa Claus is Canadian for Father Christmas.) The little ones will hold them up, one letter at a time, and each letter will have a poem about it. Like, “S is for snow, da dum, da dum, da dum.” And we have to make up the poems. She assigned the letters. I got one of the A’s. Nyla Muir and Klaus Berg got the other A’s. I thought right away of angel. No sooner had I thought of it than Nyla put up her hand and said could she do angel because she loves angels. Phooey. The two S’s decided right away to do snow and Saskatchewan. I didn’t have any other ideas for A so I went to the dictionary. The best word I found was apophthegm, which means a short saying, but it doesn’t have that much to do with Christmas. Besides, what would rhyme with it?

  Then Abel shot up his hand and said he had already finished his poem. He had C. Miss Hutchinson read it out:

  C is for chilblains

  We get them on our feet.

  If you sit on the stove

  You get them on your seat.

  Of course Abel meant to be cheeky but he was sure surprised when Miss Hutchinson said that would be just fine.

  We have until Friday to work on our poems. We’re also supposed to think of songs or skits we would like to perform. I hope my poem turns out attractive and not asinine and that Miss Hutchinson adores it and does not abhor it.

  December 7

  Ivy the Hearing

  Florence brought a little book to school with plays in it. At recess she asked me if I would like to be in one with her. There are five parts. The best thing is that she didn’t ask Nyla. She asked Elizabeth, Vera and Nellie. Or maybe it is just because Miss Hutchinson told us today that Nyla is going to be mistress of ceremonies at the concert and maybe she wouldn’t have time to also be in a play. But I think Florence likes me better than Nyla. It is probably wrong to feel so happy about this. Saints wouldn’t. But I do.

  We read the play out loud at lunchtime. It is very funny, about the five senses and Christmas. I get to be Hearing. I’ll write down my piece here. Maybe it will help me remember it. Maybe the words will travel up my fingers to my brain.

  When Christmas drew near

  I wanted to hear

  Everything everyone said.

  But Grandma talked low

  And Mum whispered so

  It gave me a pain in the head.

  We decided to make giant ears, nose, mouth, hands and glasses. I can imagine giant ears but I can’t think how to make them. I wish there were some kind of magic stuff that you could mould into any shape. Like mud but clean and dries hard. And free.

  No idea for A. At home it could be for the ass that Mary and Joseph ride on, but I’m not going to make that mistake again.

  December 8

  Fast Ears

  I asked Mother about ears last night and this morning they were already made, sitting beside my bed when I woke up. She must have made them after I went to bed. They are perfect, huge, made of white cloth and stuffed with kapok so that they stick right up. They fasten to my head with a piece of elastic. If I move my head just a little bit they wiggle in a very comic way. I wore them to breakfast and Gladys laughed so much she inhaled her porridge. Dad told Mother they were a feat of engineering but Mother just harrumphed and said she hoped I would take them off before I served breakfast to the boarders. I don’t know why Mother doesn’t like it if you notice that she is being kind. If I’m kind I like people to notice right away and thank me.

  Still no idea for A. I tried the dictionary again. I think I’ll annihilate Nyla. Maybe I’ll ask Mr. Ambrose.

  December 9

  Why Prepositions Can be Useful

  Got it.

  I did ask Mr. Ambrose and he said I should not limit myself to nouns.

  A’s for above

  Where the bright star is glowing.

  Christmas is coming,

  The
cattle are lowing.

  I stole the last line from “Away in a Manger.” I hope that’s allowed. What’s lowing, anyway?

  December 10

  Miss Hutchinson likes the “echo” of “Away in a Manger” in my poem. So it wasn’t stealing but echoing.

  December 11

  Lowing is just mooing. There isn’t much else to discuss about lowing so instead Mr. Ambrose told me about Percival Lowell, an authority on Mars.

  Christmas card and letter from Ethel today. The noisy family moved out of number 107. Now there is a family with a boy that Ethel is sweet on. That was all she wrote about. She didn’t mention Dot or anything else I told her about. Chivers did send love and purrs.

  December 13

  Christmas Concert Crisis

  Nyla’s mother came to school today. She is complaining because Miss Hutchinson told us not to wear our long underwear to the Christmas concert because it would not look good poking out from underneath our crepe-paper skirts. But Nyla’s mother thinks it is dangerous for Nyla to take off her long underwear in winter, even for one evening. (Elizabeth and Florence and I wondered why Nyla even asked her mother. We certainly didn’t. If you go around asking your parents for permission then you deserve what you get.)

  Maybe Nyla won’t be able to be in the concert and I can do angels after all.

  December 14

  Rats

  The underwear crisis is solved. Miss Hutchinson is going to add one more layer of crepe paper to the bottom of the skirts and then Nyla can just roll up her long underwear. Still, she is going to look dumpy.

  Lumpy dumpy Nyla Muir

  She’s a pill and that’s for suir,

  She’s a disease

  And there’s no cuir.

  Lumpy dumpy Nyla Muir.

  Trying to think of my A poem seems to have made me think of rhymes all the time.

  When Auntie Lou gave me this diary to record the most important things in my life she probably didn’t know how good it would be for insults.

  December 15

  Letter from the Relatives

  Today there was a letter from Auntie Millie. Mother read it out loud. Auntie Millie is expecting another baby! Baby Jack and Auntie Millie are living with Auntie Millie’s parents in London but the pram-making business didn’t work out so Uncle Alf has gone to the south coast for another job. Mother and Dad gave each other THE LOOK when Mother read out that bit. Baby Jack is walking and Auntie Millie looks forward to going up to Oxford Street at Christmas to see all the decorations.

  Later I asked William about THE LOOK. He says he reckons that Uncle Alf has done a bunk and left Auntie Millie. I don’t think that could be true. He would never leave Baby Jack and the baby on the way.

  December 17

  Dress Rehearsal

  Today we didn’t do any work in school. We just got ready for the concert. We had a fine time. The big boys stood on the desks and hung crepe-paper streamers from the roof. Mrs. Battrum came with white sheets to make curtains across the stage. A very talented artist used the Christmas stencils to make holly leaves and bells across the top of the blackboard. (Talented artist = me. Miss Hutchinson let me use the coloured chalks. I wish we could use them every day for our work. I think colours would really help with arithmetic drills.) Then we pushed all the desks to the side and did a last rehearsal. I forgot my A poem after the first line. There were lots of other mistakes too. Miss Hutchinson said, “Bad dress rehearsal, good performance.” But I don’t know. When I think about standing up in front of everybody my insides hollow out. Toffee-Nose wore her mistress of ceremonies dress. It is made of layers and layers of crepe paper, like a rainbow. She said isn’t it a shame that we all can’t wear pretty dresses instead of just funny ears. I bit my tongue.

  Then Mr. McLaren brought in the tree. We decorated it with paper chains and cut-out snowflakes and Miss Hutchinson made popcorn and we made that into strings. (And we ate some too.) Then we put the candles in the holders. Miss Hutchinson sent us home early.

  December 19

  Ears and Above

  Nine o’clock in the morning and I’m still in my nightie. I’m writing this in bed. No church. We slept in because we were so late last night. Mother gave the boarders scones for breakfast so she didn’t need me to help.

  The concert was heaps of fun. The school didn’t even look like the school with the candles and lanterns and the tree and the ceiling covered in dancing streamers. Before we started Miss Hutchinson gathered us together and told us to speak up, to have fun and not to set ourselves on fire. I remembered my ear piece and my A piece even though I felt my mouth was just saying the words and I was somewhere else. When Abel said his chilblain poem people cheered and stomped on the floor. They stomped again after “The Christmas Senses.” And Dad went “Whoop!” which was a little embarrassing, but not too much. The little ones did their choral recitation of “The Christmas Cat” and it ended with Herman saying, “He purred in the manger and kept Jesus warm.” Then all the mothers started crying. I almost did too.

  Then there was the sound of bells outside and Santa Claus came in. He had presents for everyone. I got an orange and a bag of candy and a beautiful blue silk handkerchief. When Santa Claus called Gladys’s name she was afraid to go and collect her present. She just held onto my leg. But then I told her it was just Father Christmas and she was fine. It turns out she didn’t know that Santa Claus is just the Canadian name for Father Christmas. (Of course it was really Bill Bowler the butcher but I didn’t tell her that.)

  Then there was carol singing. Some of the little ones went to sleep on the desks. Then there was a big lunch with sandwiches and cakes and pie. It was after midnight when we got home.

  Oh, I forgot. The biggest surprise. In between the Santa Acrostic and Ralph’s homesteader recitation Miss Hutchinson got up and sang a song. She didn’t tell us she was going to do it. It was called “The Ash Grove.” Everyone was dead quiet when she sang. She looked like an angel from above.

  December 20

  Christmas Comes from Home

  The Christmas parcel from Auntie Lou has arrived! Dad picked it up at the post office this morning. Mother made us wait until William came home from the store before we were allowed to open it at all. I nearly burst with waiting. What if I really had and bits of me had whizzed all around the room like the exploding cocoa from Thorvald’s pail? It’s like that funny poem that Dad recites about all the children who do naughty things and meet terrible ends. Here’s mine, “Ivy Weatherall, The Girl Who Burst With Waiting”:

  dum di dum di dum di dum …

  But though her family wailed and wept

  The moral is that if you’re kept

  Waiting too long you might end up dead

  Like The Girl Who Burst With Waiting.

  There’s something not right with line four. You might meet the fate … You might end up in bits … That’s better but still too long. Why are beginnings and ending of poems easier than middles?

  But I didn’t burst and when William FINALLY came home we opened up the box and it was a treasure chest. A fruitcake in a pretty tin with fancy paper round the edge and covered in marzipan with a piece of holly. A box with six glass Christmas balls. You can look inside them to a little scene. A tin of Lyle’s Golden Syrup. (William said it made him think of collecting horse manure because he used to collect it on Halley Road with a Lyle’s box. Of course it wouldn’t be our family if somebody didn’t bring that up.) A box of almonds. A box of Chivers Jellies. A bag of ribbon sweets and humbugs. A wrapped present for each of us. (Mine has edges like a book). Some English newspapers. A big pile of Magnets.

  Of course we have to save it for Christmas but Mother must have understood a little bit about bursting because she made a pot of tea and we all had a sliver of fruitcake. I eat cake then marzipan. William eats marzipan then cake.

  Then William started flipping through the Magnets. He used to buy one every Saturday at home. The Magnet is supposed to be a magazine just for b
oys, but I always liked it too. William started to read out loud a Famous Five story, with lovely Harry Wharton, and cheery Bob Cherry, studious Frank Nugent, Billy Bunter the fat boy, and all the other boys and masters at Greyfriars School. It was like meeting old friends from home. It was all there, the cricket game, the scrumptious tea, the jokes about Latin, Loder of the Sixth (that cad!), and the visit of a mysterious stranger. We wouldn’t let William stop. Even Mother.

  Then Harry asked, “Would Billy Bunter ever come to Milorie?” Harry was too young for the Magnet at home and he sometimes gets mixed up about stories and real things. But this made Dad and William start talking like the Magnet, but putting in everything about our life in Canada. Mother and I did it too:

  “The chickens laid three dozen eggs today,” said the venerable but distinguished John Weatherall. “Isn’t that simply ripping!”

  “Oh, my hat,” said plucky Weatherall minor, “we have another elevator cleaning job tonight!”

  “Oh, dash it all,” said the glamorous Madame Weatherall, “the cutworms have destroyed the garden!”

  “Oh, hard cheese!” said the beautiful but mysterious Miss Weatherall.

  “Crikey!” said plucky Weatherall minor. “We seem to be snowed in by the blizzard. What shall we do?”