One day I decided to go to the village of Gruddley.
I went to the smallest house in the village. I was told it was Princess Tilly’s house.
I knocked gently.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
No one answered so I walked inside.
Still no one answered. I tip toed own the passage and I came to a big brown door.
It was known as “D” for door.
I had heard a rumour that at the top of the stairs to the cellar below, lived Mr Darstardly Derwain Aderifski.
No one ever saw him, just his crumply “D” hand scrabbling up and down the door as it Dreee-ee-eked open.
“Whats the password?’ He said in a creaky voice.
“Grapes and Gravy”
“Who are you?”
“Where do you live”
“Did you change your socks this morning? I can’t bear the smell”
Life was hard for Mr Darstardly. Nobody ever saw his face. Just his wrinkly crinkly hand.
He pulled open the door with exaggerated effort and a strong smell of lavender and mint wafted up the dark passage by the rickety stairs.
“Go on , down you go.” he said with a crinkly smile. “Be careful of the woggly boggly bugs and mind the nettle noodles”.