Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

JODIESTREASURE CHEST

Buckets of Rain

- Part One

"Buckets of rain!" cried the lumpish crimson-jacketed dwarf trundling down the High street of our town with his ware. 

"Who will buy my buckets of rain - freshly collected this morning before the dawn !"

"Get away with you," called out Thomas the Butcher. "I'll have none of your buckets of rain. I have a hole in my shop's roof and this morning I found my store-room flooded and all my meat perfectly ruined. Move on before I box your ears!"

 "Buckets of rain!" cried the dwarf, scowling a little now. "Rain from the edge of the Ancient Forest, freshly dripped from leaf and sky, sweetened with elf song and the dreams of flowers. Who will buy my lovely rain?"

"Bah!" called out Ms. Ethyl Two-Bunions the Post Mistress. as she stood outside the Post Office, searching for the big iron key to its door in his purse. 

"How are decent folk to know you haven't just dipped your buckets in the village pond? You dwarfs are a sly and shiftless people always looking for an easy way to gull honest God-fearing citizens out of their well-earned money.

"Selling rain is no respectable way for man or dwarf to make a living. Unless you have a soft chamois-leather with you and care to wash the Post Office windows with your rain-water for a decent shilling, then be off with you!"

The dwarf glared fiercely back at Ms. Two-Bunions.

"This is no pond-water, Mistress," he said "and far too good to wash your dirty windows. Why'd you let them get so filthy in the first place?"

Of course, Ms. Ethyl Two-Bunions bridled at this immediately.

"Clear off this instant, you horrible little vagabond or I'll call the police. If my husband were still alive you wouldn't talk to me like that!"

"Your husband is perfectly alive and living with Good-widow Jenkins over the hat shop in Twistle Town two miles away - everybody in the village knows that... even so, I expect he can still hear your voice from there!

"Buckets of rain!" called out the dwarf, proceeding down the street, his customary native grumpiness lightened considerably by this latest interchange. "Who will buy my buckets of fresh forest rain?"

part two follows

Dodies Dream World. at http://dodiesdreamworld.zoomshare.com/ : Blog

Dodies Dream World. at http://dodiesdreamworld.zoomshare.com/ : BlogThis tribute is going to be one of my favourites for a long time. I present Laurel and Hardy
DODIES DREAM WORLD
AND ADAM AND EVE PRESENT
One of the greatest double Acts the World has ever known!
Laurel and Hardy



Laurel and Hardy in a promotional still from their 1937 feature film Out West

Sons of the Desert

Writer Lee Jordan

Photographer Mike Lawn & Roger Scruton

Seventy years ago two gentlemen met on a silent movie film set. One was a large American, the other a thin Englishman. The picture they were filming was a comedy Lucky Dog and this fortuitous casting in 1922 was the genesis of Laurel & Hardy, arguably the greatest comedy pairing the silver screen has ever seen. A partnership that would last for 30 years and an act that would transfer successfully from silent films to talkies.

Such was, and, indeed is, their appeal that 70 years on, thousands of Laurel & Hardy fans still curl up in laughter at the adventures of two kind-hearted men dressed in suits and derby hats who, no matter how hard they endeavour not to, always find themselves in trouble. And the resultant attempts to alleviate their problems guarantee hilarious situations.

During the 1960s when Professor John McCabe was writing his authorised biography Mr Laurel and Mr Hardy he wrote to Stan Laurel and asked if he had any objection to a body of enthusiasts being formed on the lines of the 'Baker Street Irregulars', the society devoted to Sherlock Holmes. Stan Laurel was delighted that "celebration" would be its theme and even helped with the groups constitution. The societies name, suggested by a founder member the late Al Kilgore derives from Laurel & Hardy's 1933 film, Sons of The Desert.

Today there are new sons (and daughters) being admitted and each new member joins a "tent" of The Sons of The Desert. Each tent has its own name: The Dirty Work Tent are all Washington firefighters; Midnight Patrol Tent, made up of police officers and Do Detectives Think?, more members of the b blue. These are just some of the hundred plus tents worldwide.

Naughty Kitten, No! I don't think so, do you? xxx

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

BUNS AND BABES WELCOME

Dozy Dora's kitten.

Playing with a little kitten

Dozy Dora lost her knitting.

Before too long the cat went missing,

leaving Dora clucking, fussing.

If her hearing had been better

- curled up in a half-finished mitten.

Oh where is that knitting?

she swore and she cussed,

pulling her hair until it was mussed.

It was not until late the next morning

she looked in a drawer

for a shilling to pay a man at the door

and there was the knitting

and in it the kitten,

the end of the wool all caught up in its claws!

Carefully she unravelled it,

anxious not to make it skit

but intent as she was on her lip-biting task

she quite forgot the waiting milkman

and rap, rap, rap, he struck her knocker

and up jumped Puss, his two eyes round.

In a flash he was out of the drawer

running as he hit the ground,

half a mile outside the pound,

Dozy Dora's unravelled mitten

trailing out behind him.

But at least, thought Dora,

he was safe and sound.

Putting out a bowl of milk

(after paying off the churlish merchant)

she found his little bell and rang it.

Presently the cat came back

with half a moiien wrapped around it.

Oh dear, said Dozy Dora

and put down the old tin mug of coconut milk

and Baileys she was drinking with a loud clatter.

Try as she might she just couldn't remember

who she had been making the mitten for

As it was they were for herself,

to try to stop her fingers aching

and to help her take hot cake

from out of the oven

(she was very good at baking).

She remembered eventually of course,

just after the main course,

her guests all now quite anxious for pudding.

Quickly she sent our the cat,

in his best frock and cap

to buy what he could for a shilling.

Imagine her stare when he flew down the stairs

with a tray of cup-cakes and eclairs.

"I was saving them for a rainy day," he purred.

"Is it raining then?" Dora asked the kitten,

"you might have told me earlier,

I might have remembered to bring in the washing."

But the clever kitten had already done it

and do you know what?

He had even finished knitting the mitten.

Dear old Dozy Dora and her helpful kitten!

WILLOWDOWN ©2009

A wee rhyme, from a wee thought that began, "fishes leaping River weeping. xxx diddilydeedot's dreamland

Here is a rhyme, that has no sense or reason, 

but I rather like it, xxx 

diddilydeedotsdreamland.com/

*Here is a rhyme * with NO reason*

Fishes leaping    River weeping

Eyes peeping       Goblins creeping.

Hours fleeting       Heart seeking

Eyes weeping           Goblins eating.

Shadows breathing      Princess dreaming

Secret meeting                 Blood seeping.

Trees creaking            Stars falling

Flowers forming           Early morning..

Children shrieking           Bull frogs leaping

Fairies dancing                     Goblins sleeping.

Rain splashing                           River laughing

Gods swimming                   Fish flashing.

River seeking                  Heart leaping

To journeys end            Sheep bleating.

Thunder speaking          Clocks one ticking

Midnight weeping               Chicks cheeping.

Princess yawning                   Three is dawning

Satyrs snoring                              Suitors fawning.

Artists drawing                                 Old men boring

Poets pawing                                        Golden awning.

 

Scales of the River glittering on a golden dish

River captured in a silver goblet.

Sheep in wolves clothing, just supposing

Heart weeping, speaking the river still seeking

Rainbows end endless repeating.

Old man snoring and scratching his tum

Young girl imprisoned in a big cities slum.

Fishes leaping River weeping

Eyes peeping Goblins creeping

DIDDILYDEEDOTSDREAMLAND.ZOOMSHARE.COM/

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog: "Sun, 15 Nov 2009
how come Jelly fish are made of Jelly.? I read somewhere that they were able to walk on land and swim under the depths of the sea.....
Ayliyahs Legends

JELLYFISH IN SEARCH OF A MONKEY

THIS IS A TALE THEY TELL IN JAPAN OF THE ORIGIN OF THE JELLYFISH
WE FIND STRANDED ON OUR BEACHES !

Long, long ago, instead of soft tentacles, he had a bunch of legs as graceful as a greyhound's, ans as for his figure the proudest pig in Ireland could not vie with him for firmly arched, well covered ribs.
Naturally, he was the administration of all the other fish, for, besides being nimble and stately, he was the only deep sea thing that could walk on land as well as swim in the water. Unfortunately, he was like too many human beings, who simply rely on their good looks to make them popular, and do not trouble to develop their brains, therefore this handsome creature was exceedingly stupid.
One day Jellyfish was strolling about the shore of a coral island, when a flying fish shot out of the waves, and told him that he was summoned to the palace of the Dragon King.
As he approached the audience chamber he could hear by the clanking of golden scales that the Dragon King was pacing about in the greatest agitation, but his brow cleared as he caught sight of Jellyfish.
' I thought you would never come ! ' he cried. ' And the Queen gets worse every hour ! Listen, the doctors say that she can be cured by swallowing the liver of a wild monkey. You are the only fish who can go ashore. You must swim, as you have never swum in your life, find the bit of land that has monkeys on it and then persuade the monkey to return with you. If you succeeed I will make you Grand Warden of the Indian Ocean, with the right to a coronet of pearl shell and cowrie. '
Jellyfish hardly stopped to bow; in a very little while he was wading out of the breakers on to a lovely island of palm trees and scarlet hibiscus. The first animal he saw was a small grey monkey with a friendly countenance. Jellyfish hailed him gladly :

' Ho, you Master Monkey there ! I am sent by the Dragon King of all the seas; to ask that you come to the palace. '
The monkey's shrivelled face beamed with pleasure. Never had he dreamed of receiving a royal Monkey invitation, and he was all to ready to accept this.
For a little while Jellyfish, with the monkey on his back, swam in silence, for he was short of breath, but soon he asked:
' By the way, I hope you have got your liver with you ? '
Now the monkey was not smart like Jellyfish, but he he kept his wits about him.
'Erm, and why do you ask that ?' he inquired
'Well, ' said Jellyfish, 'the Queen is really poorly and the doctors say she can only be saved by swallowing the liver of a live monkey. '
At this the monkey exclaimed, 'Oh dear me, what a thousand pities ! I left my hanging out to air at the top of the coconut palm. I think we had better hurry back and get it at once.'
'We must indeed, ' said the Jellyfish. And back they went.
A s soon as they arrived back at the palm, the monkey was away to the top, and then he called down.
'Go away, stupid ! I wont part with my liver for any Queen, in the sea or out. '
Then to clinch the argument he threw nut at Jellyfish till he ran into the sea.
All his knees knocked together as he told the tale of his failure, and the Dragon King smoked with rage. When he had stammered out his last word the Dragon King roared to his servants:
' Beat him ! Break him to within an inch of his life ! Break every bone in his body ! In fact beat him to a jelly !'
' And that's it, the end of the story. And poor Jellyfish, ..... well, sad to say, he really did become a jelly-fish."

Tabaluga is a little Green Dragon, in fact he is the last of his kind, and he must save his Kingdom of Green-land .

TABALUGA,Tabaluga

WHO WAS THE LAST DRAGON ON EARTH,
AND WHO LIVED IN

TabalugaTHE KINGDOM OF GREENLAND




With the neighbouring Land of Ice on one side, and the Terrifying Land of Desert's on the other, little Tabaluga and his friends have plenty of work to do. There are three small playlists, each one with parts, 1 II and III, each one about 8-10 mins each, or roughly 35mins each complete story. They can be found on the wonderful You Tube, and if you type in Tabaluga, seligor you can embed the link there or straight from the open website. Please don't remove or add to the video list as I have an Only Children very strict site policy.
Thank you so much, Seligor's Castle and Diddily-dee-dot's dream-land. XXX"

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

A Smiley Moon to start a new month, not long until Christmas comes. Are you all getting excited?

CYDNEY'S CASTLE CYDNEY'S CASTLE CYDNEY'S CASTLE WHAT THE MOON SAW! IT is a strange thing, when I feel most fervently and most deeply, my hands and my tongue seem alike tied, so that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter; my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who have seen my sketches and fancies say the same. I am a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest of lanes; but I do not want for light, as my room is high up in the house, with an extensive prospect over the neighbouring roofs. During the first few days I went to live in the town, I felt low-spirited and solitary enough. Instead of the forest and the green hills of former days, I had here only a forest of chimney-pots to look out upon. And then I had not a single friend; not one familiar face greeted me. So one evening I sat at the window, in a desponding mood; and presently I opened the casement and looked out. Oh, how my heart leaped up with joy! Here was a well-known face at last—a round, friendly countenance, the face of a good friend I had known at home. In, fact, it was the MOON that looked in upon me. He was quite unchanged, the dear old Moon, and had the same face exactly that he used to show when he peered down upon me through the willow trees on the moor. I kissed my hand to him over and over again, as he shone far into my little room; and he, for his part, promised me that every evening, when he came abroad, he would look in upon me for a few moments. This promise he has faithfully kept. It is a pity that he can only stay such a short time when he comes. Whenever he appears, he tells me of one thing or another that he has seen on the previous night, or on that same evening. “Just paint the scenes I describe to you”—this is what he said to me—“and you will have a very pretty picture-book.” I have followed his injunction for many evenings. I could make up a new “Thousand and One Nights,” in my own way, out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, after all. The pictures I have here given have not been chosen at random, but follow in their proper order, just as they were described to me. Some great gifted painter, or some poet or musician, may make something more of them if he likes; what I have given here are only hasty sketches, hurriedly put upon the paper, with some of my own thoughts, interspersed; for the Moon did not come to me every evening— a cloud sometimes hid his face from me. First Evening LAST night”—I am quoting the Moon’s own words—“last night I was gliding through the cloudless Indian sky. My face was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my beams strove to pierce through the thick intertwining boughs of the bananas, arching beneath me like the tortoise’s shell. Forth from the thicket tripped a Hindoo maid, light as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve. Airy and etherial as a vision, and yet sharply defined amid the surrounding shadows, stood this daughter of Hindostan: I could read on her delicate brow the thought that had brought her hither. The thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she came rapidly forward. The deer that had come down to the river to quench her thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, for in her hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see the blood in her delicate finger tips, as she spread them for a screen before the dancing flame. She came down to the stream, and set the lamp upon the water, and let it float away. The flame flickered to and fro, and seemed ready to expire; but still the lamp burned on, and the girl’s black sparkling eyes, half veiled behind their long silken lashes, followed it with a gaze of earnest intensity. She knew that if the lamp continued to burn so long as she could keep it in sight, her betrothed was still alive; but if the lamp was suddenly extinguished, he was dead. And the lamp burned bravely on, and she fell on her knees, and prayed. Near her in the grass lay a speckled snake, but she heeded it not—she thought only of Bramah and of her betrothed. ‘He lives!’ she shouted joyfully, ‘he lives!’ And from the mountains the echo came back upon her, ‘he lives!’” Second Evening YESTERDAY,” said the Moon to me, “I looked down upon a small courtyard surrounded on all sides by houses. In the courtyard sat a clucking hen with eleven chickens; and a pretty little girl was running and jumping around them. The hen was frightened, and screamed, and spread out her wings over the little brood. Then the girl’s father came out and scolded her; and I glided away and thought no more of the matter. “But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same courtyard. Everything was quiet. But presently the little girl came forth again, crept quietly to the hen-house, pushed back the bolt, and slipped into the apartment of the hen and chickens. They cried out loudly, and came fluttering down from their perches, and ran about in dismay, and the little girl ran after them. I saw it quite plainly, for I looked through a hole in the hen-house wall. I was angry with the willful child, and felt glad when her father came out and scolded her more violently than yesterday, holding her roughly by the arm; she held down her head, and her blue eyes were full of large tears. ‘What are you about here?’ he asked. She wept and said, ‘I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her pardon for frightening her yesterday; but I was afraid to tell you.’ “And the father kissed the innocent child’s forehead, and I kissed her on the mouth and eyes.” And there you go , the first two little tales from the one and only Hans Christian Anderson, we still have thirty more to go, I hope you will stay awake to read them all. But not all tonight, two is quite enough for one night., by the way there are 14 little chickens. Hugs, Diddilydeedot in Dreamland. xxxx

Posted 21:52