Hi folks! This weekend's writing task is that of constructing a bedtime children's story set in England. I thought I would share the first half with you. Second half to come!!

.................................................................................................

Little Jimmy Potts was on the first day of his first family holiday at the seaside.

Every other holiday during his eight years in life had been spent at his grandparents’ home in the middle of England where the sea was a long, long way away and so was the nearest ice-cream shop, which was a problem for Jimmy as he loved ice-cream, and when I say he loved ice-cream, what I mean is that he really, really, really loved ice-cream.

In fact, he loved ice-cream so much he sometimes had it for breakfast, not on its own of course as that would be silly, but on his cereal.

There was no better breakfast in the world in Jimmy’s mind than putting a scoop of vanilla ice-cream on his cornflakes and then sending the bowl round the microwave so that the ice-cream melted right through the cornflakes, soaking them, turning them soggy, and then once all eaten there would be a pool of milk at the bottom of the bowl which could be drunk like a vanilla ice-cream milkshake, and often some of the milk would spill down his chin and onto his pyjamas and his mum would ask if he’d been eating ice-cream again for breakfast.

‘No mum,’ he’d say. ‘It’s just milk.’

‘Are you sure, Jimmy? Because it looks like ice-cream.’

‘It’s not, mum, I promise; it’s just milk. I don’t even like ice-cream.’

Jimmy’s mum never believed him, but let him get away with it because she knew just how much he loved ice-cream and had told him that where they were going to on holiday had the best ice-cream in the country.

‘Cornwall?’ said Jimmy before they went away. ‘Where is it?’

‘By the sea,’ said Jimmy’s mum. ‘We’re staying in a village.’

‘Do they sell Cornettos there?’

‘Of course, love. Cornettos are sold everywhere.’

Cornettos were Jimmy’s favourite afternoon ice-cream.

For Jimmy, going into a shop and looking at the Cornettos wrapped in their shiny foil and lined up in racks in the freezer was like looking at presents under the Christmas tree, only instead of having many presents to open, only one Cornetto could be chosen.

Jimmy always took his time in deciding which Cornetto to pick, because it could be a long time, a very long time, perhaps even a week, before he was allowed another one, so he had to get it right.

He normally ignored the vanilla flavour because he’d had it for breakfast, and he ignored the mint ones as he didn’t like mint, leaving him with the terrible choice to make between classic chocolate and strawberry chocolate.

With classic chocolate he had lots of chocolate, which was brilliant, but if he went for strawberry chocolate he’d have less chocolate, but make up for it with strawberry flavour, which was his favourite flavour after chocolate and so he’d get a bit of both.

‘Hurry up son,’ his dad would say. ‘Make your pick.’

Eventually, Jimmy would make his pick. But there was a rule. It wasn’t his rule, it was his parents’ rule.

The rule was that he could only have a Cornetto if he’d eaten his lunch, and his lunch couldn’t be ice-cream.

This was a problem for Jimmy as he walked with his family from their holiday cottage into the fishing village in Cornwall.

He hadn’t eaten lunch because he’d felt car sick on the journey, but he wasn’t in the car now and lunch had long passed, and so had his sickness and all he wanted in the world was a Cornetto.

He daren’t ask for one, because he knew he’d be told he couldn’t have one.

What he needed was his big sister Maggie to ask for one and then he could ask for one too, but she annoyingly hadn’t said a word yet about wanting one.

All Maggie wanted to do was sit on the harbour wall and stare at the boats.

There were plenty of boats to stare at and other things too; such as the fishermen cleaning their boats, or the fishermen bringing in their boats, or the holidaymakers wandering around wondering what to do, with some peering through the little tearoom’s window, and others going in and out of one of the three pubs, each of which had names Jimmy thought a pirate would appreciate.

There was the Hobgoblin at the far end of the village, the Shipwreck Inn in the middle part and the Drunken Dragon right behind where Jimmy was sitting on the harbour wall not looking at the boats, but at the shop in the distance.

‘I fancy an ice-cream,’ said Jimmy’s dad. ‘Do you want one, love?’

‘Yeah, why not?’ said Jimmy’s mum. ‘We’re on holiday, after all.’

‘What about you Maggie?’

Maggie shook her head.

‘Just me and you love, then,’ said Jimmy’s dad.
Jimmy pulled a face.

‘Sorry, son, you know the rules.’

‘I’ll eat lunch!’ said Jimmy pleadingly. ‘I will! I will!’

‘Too late for getting lunch now, son.’

Jimmy looked around the harbour, squinting, searching for somewhere. ‘What about that place?’ he said.

Jimmy’s dad looked at where Jimmy was pointing. ‘Oh yeah, good spot, son. We’ll find you something in the bakery.’

‘And then I can have a Cornetto?’

‘Once you eat what I get you, yes.’

‘Don’t get him a cake,’ said Jimmy’s mum. ‘He needs something savoury.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ said Jimmy’s dad. ‘I know just the thing.’

Jimmy went with his dad to the bakery, walking past the village shop, outside of which was a sign that read: Cornettos sold here.

Not long to go now, Jimmy thought. Not long till I get my Cornetto.

There was a queue in the bakery. It stretched to the doorway, irritating Jimmy as all he wanted to do was to go in the shop.

Eventually, they got to the front of the queue. Jimmy stared at the cabinet, trying to decide which sandwich he could eat the fastest.

There was an egg sandwich, but it had cress in it and cress tasted like grass, and there was also a ham sandwich, but it had tomato in it and tomato tasted yucky unless it was sauce.

The chicken looked okay to Jimmy, only it was on brown bread with bits and he didn’t like bits in his bread. There was cheese though.
Just cheese on its own and with white bread.

‘Yes, sir?’ said the woman behind the counter.

‘A Cornish pasty, please,’ said Jimmy’s dad.

A Cornish what? Jack thought.

‘Hot or cold?’ said the woman.

‘Hot, please,’ said Jimmy’s dad.

The woman opened an oven and used tongs to remove a Cornish pasty. She slid it into a paper bag and passed it over the counter.

‘There you go, son,’ said Jimmy’s dad, passing down the bag.

Jimmy held the bag by the corner and left the shop with his head down, sulking as best he could.

‘Cheer up, son,’ said his dad. ‘You’re on holiday!’

Jimmy sat down on a bench outside the bakery and opened the bag. He looked at the size of the pasty and his heart sank.

The pasty’s shape was like a rugby ball cut in half and it was huge; so huge that Jimmy knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it and if didn’t finish it he wouldn’t get his ice-cream.

‘How do I eat it?’ he asked his dad.

‘Start at the end and work your way through it.’

The pasty’s exterior was thick pastry. Some of it was smooth, but the edge resembled a rough piece of rope and appeared to Jimmy to be impossible to bite through it was so thick.

‘I don’t like it,’ he said.

‘You haven’t even tried it,’ said his dad.

‘Can’t I have it later?’

‘Not if you want an ice-cream.’

Jimmy looked to his side. Boys and girls were stepping away from the shop and they were each carrying a Cornetto.

Soon, Jimmy feared, there would be none left to buy. He pulled the paper bag down a little lower and raised the pasty to his mouth.

‘What’s in it?’ he asked.

‘Delicious things,’ his dad said. ‘Trust me.’

Jimmy remained worried. His dad thought sprouts were delicious, and anyone who’s eaten one knows, they are not. They are yucky.

Please don’t have sprouts in, Jimmy thought as he raised the pasty to his mouth. Anything but sprouts!

He took a little bite of the pastry and began to chew nervously.

Mmm, he thought. I like this pastry. It tastes nice.

Still, it was only the pastry; only the edge. Jimmy had yet to take on the heart of the
of the Cornish pasty.

He swallowed and took another little bite, and then another, nibbling his way down the side of the pasty until there was no side left.

‘The best bit is still to come,’ said his dad. ‘Just you wait.’

Jimmy looked at the inside of the pasty, trying to work out what he was looking at.

There was some brown meat, which he guessed was beef, and around the beef were small chunks of what appeared to be potato. It’s just like a funny shaped meat and potato pie, Jimmy thought. I can eat this.

He took a good-sized bite and began to chew.

The beef didn’t taste like normal beef, it tasted better, much better, and so did the potatoes, they were the tastiest potatoes Jimmy had tasted.

He swallowed and immediately took another bite, this time a big, big bite, cramming as much as the pasty into his mouth.

As he chewed, he realised there were other ingredients in his mouth.

He looked at the opened-up pasty. There were onions, which he loved, particularly on a hot dog on bonfire night, and something else; chunks of another vegetable, the same size as the potato chunks, only the colour was pale yellow.

‘That’s swede,’ said his dad.

Jimmy’s mouth was full so he couldn’t talk.

He’d never heard of swede, but he’d heard of Sweden and wondered if that was where the vegetable was grown.

He continued to chew and swallow, and chew and swallow, until soon all the pasty was in his tummy and all he was holding was the paper bag.

‘You liked it then?’ asked his dad.

Jimmy nodded.

‘Good lad. You can have your ice-cream now.’
But Jimmy wasn’t thinking about ice-cream. He was thinking about another Cornish pasty.

‘Can I get a second one, dad?’ he asked.

‘Aren’t you full, son?’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘I’ve still got room.’

‘How about we share one, eh?’

Jimmy waited on the bench as his dad bought a second pasty.

He got another hot one, and he also bought a little sachet of tomato sauce which he bit open with his teeth and squeezed the contents on to the two halves of the pasty.

Wow! Jimmy thought as he turned the pasty and the sauce around his mouth. This is yummy!

Jimmy finished his half of the pasty in no time and got his Cornetto.

But even as he reached his favourite part, which was the solid chocolate at the bottom of the cone, all he was thinking about was when he could have another Cornish pasty.