Coronavirus Lockdown: Fergie Ferguson and the Wee Bogeyman

I was a scriptwriter for the children’s Radio and TV programmes on the BBC for many years and wrote loads of stories for them. Here’s one I wrote about Fergie who was pestered by a wee pest, the bogeyman. I hope your kids and grandkids enjoy reading it.

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Fergie Ferguson was a clockmaker who lived in a little village on an island off the west coast of Scotland where the great Atlantic Ocean smashed and crashed on to the shore. He spent his days mending and repairing clocks and when he’d fixed them, setting them at the correct times that they could chime along with the rest. For Fergie Ferguson’s house was full of clocks. They sat on every surface in every room of his house and stood on every square of floor he had.

From every room in his house could be heard the tick tocking of his clocks. Some were slow, deep sounds….

TICK …. TOCK…..

….others were busy, hurried rhythms…..

ticktockticktock….

….and others were so quick and quiet you had to put your ear tight up against them in order to hear them……..

tick tock tick tock

All day long, the sound of ticking and tocking could be heard through the house. It was so loud it drowned out the thunder of the Atlantic waves crashing on the nearby shore. Fergie didn’t notice the noise, he was used to it but not many people came to visit because they couldn’t stand it for very long.

One day a visitor came to stay in Fergie’s house. Fergie hadn’t invited him and he didn’t even know he was there until one morning, Fergie got up as usual.

He was just in the middle of washing his face when he stopped.

‘Something’s wrong,’ he said to himself. ‘Something’s not right.’

He stood and listened, the water still dripping off the end of his nose and his hands all soapy. He could hear the clocks all ticking away – the big grandfather clock with its deep slow tick….

TICK …. TOCK…..

the clock that sat on the mantelpiece with its quicker ticking…..

ticktockticktock….

and the little clocks whose ticks could hardly be heard…..

tick tock tick tock….

….yes they were all there and none of them had stopped.

But still Fergie was sure that something was wrong. He quickly dried his face and rushed downstairs. Then it dawned on him.

‘They’re ticking the wrong way,’ he said. ‘My clocks aren’t going tick tock any more, they’re going tock tick.’

He listened carefully to each one. Sure enough, every clock was going tock tick. The big grandfather clock,

TOCK….TICK

the clock on the mantelpiece,

tockticktocktick

and the little quiet clocks….

tock tick tock tick.

‘Who’s done this?’ he shouted. ‘Who’s been tampering with my clocks?’

It was then that Fergie heard a little chuckle. It was so quiet that he scarcely heard it over the ticking, or rather tocking, of the clocks.

‘A bogey-man!’ said Fergie. ‘Don’t tell me a bogey-man has moved in.’

There was another little giggle.

‘Come out, you wee rascal!’ Fergie yelled. ‘Come out and show yourself!’

But of course, the wee bogey-man didn’t.

Fergus spent all day putting his clocks right so that they went tick tock and not tock tick, and then after supper he turned his whole house upside down looking for the bogey-man. 

He didn’t find the wee man so at midnight, tired out, he gave up and went to bed.

It was very early the next morning when Fergie suddenly awoke. This time he knew at once that something was wrong. Very definitely wrong.

‘My clocks have lost their tick,’ he cried jumping out of bed and scuffling for his slippers in the half light. Sure enough, all his clocks were just going tock.

The big grandfather clock said, 

TOCK………..TOCK…………TOCK very slowly and sadly,

the clock on the mantelpiece said 

tock – tock – tock as if it had a limp 

and the little clocks seemed to start and stop all the time,

 tock. tock. tock.

Fergie was furious. ‘Just wait till I catch you, you wee menace,’ he yelled.  

The wee bogey-man just laughed. Fergie chased after it till the sun was high in the sky but he did not manage to catch it or even a glimpse of it. All he heard was its laugh leading him a merry chase.

The rest of the day Fergie spent fixing his clocks so that they all went tick tock again. That night he was so exhausted he fell into bed with his clothes and boots on. When he woke the next morning, it was to the sound of the Atlantic Ocean crashing on the shore nearby. Fergie listened for a moment then leapt out of bed.

‘Where are my clocks?’ he shouted. ‘I can’t hear any of them.’

He ran downstairs and there they all were, still keeping good time but silently. Not a tick or a tock from any of them. 

‘What have you done with all my ticks and tock, you wee pest?’ he yelled. ‘Give them back to me at once.’

But the wee bogey-man just laughed.

Fergie hunted high and low throughout the house looking for his ticks and tocks. It wasn’t until he took the lid off his teapot that he found them all crammed in and desperate to get out. It took Fergie many hours to sort out what tick went where but at last all the clocks were back to their usual tick tocking.

‘I’ve had enough,’ said Fergie, mopping his brow. ‘You win. You can have this house to yourself. I’m leaving.’

The wee bogey-man was quiet. The next morning, Fergie was surprised to find that nothing had happened to his clocks overnight, every one was ticking and tocking as it ought to.

But Fergie’s mind was made up. He hitched his pony to the cart and loaded all his belongings and all his clocks on to it. The grandfather clock with its deep

TICK…TOCK..

the clock from the mantelpiece with its

ticktocckticktock

and all the little clocks with their quiet

tick tock tick tock.

Then he shouted ‘Giddy-up!’ and he and his pony set off for a place as far away from the wee bogey-man as he could find. But the noise from the Atlantic waves crashing on the shore was so loud that Fergie didn’t hear a little laugh coming from the back of his cart!

I collected many of the poems and stories I wrote for the BBC into A Drop of Rainbow Magic   leaving blank pages for the children to use their imaginations to illustrate the stories in their own way.

For young readers

Putting Up with Coronavirus 3: Books for Kids

So the kids are at home for the duration. And you have to entertain and educate them all day, every day for the next 12 weeks or however long it takes to get rid of the Covid 19 epidemic. Here’s a selection of a few of the books from my bookshelves that would help to keep them occupied while you have a coffee/tea/G&T/meltdown.

For younger children, Linda Strachan’s What Colour is Love? follows a baby elephant as he asks that question of lots of other animals till he gets the perfect answer. The kids can listen to it being read here by Linda:

For kids who are learning to read, then The Loch Ness Monster Spotters is for them. The McFee family are desperate to spot Nessie but do they?

My book, A Drop of Rainbow Magic  is a collection of stories and poems I wrote for the BBC’s Children’s programmes on radio and TV. But it has no pictures to  go with them. There are spaces left for the kids to use their imaginations and draw their own pictures to accompany the stories. And give you a break as well!

Pirates are always popular and The Jolley-Rogers and the Monster’s Gold is a swash-buckling tale of a monster who eats those who come in search of gold. Can they defeat the monster and find the treasure?

For older kids (and not just girls) Goth Girl and the Ghost of a Mouse is a beautiful, funny and intriguing book with a secret book hidden in the back of it. Ada Goth has no friends but Ishmael, a mouse ghost, and together they set out to find what is going on in their spooky home.

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Society of Authors Christmas Lunch

It was off to Edinburgh on a clear, very cold morning for the Society of Authors Christmas lunch. As the train travelled up the coast towards Glasgow, I could see the Isle of Arran glittering in its light dusting of snow. The quiet, peaceful scene was soon shattered when we reached Glasgow and its hordes of shoppers already out looking for Christmas bargains.view arran

The train to Edinburgh was packed. Were they all going there to shop? What was wrong with the Glasgow shops? Or were the trains going the opposite way also packed with people coming to Glasgow to shop? I sat beside a lovely young Polish family, the two girls practising their knowledge of the language while writing and drawing. They were very talented young artists so I couldn’t resist handing over a couple of my bookmarks and suggesting they buy A Drop of Rainbow Magic where they could be the illustrators of the stories. Never miss an opportunity – that’s my motto!

Edinburgh is a city of stairs and steps and we climbed the Scotsman Steps, all 105 of them to reach our venue in the Royal Mile, the Radisson Blu hotel, reputed to be haunted!royal mile

Lunch was a constant babble of voices as we chatted and caught up with friends, but not a ghost was to be seen, fortunately.hotel

Two of my fellow Tirgearr authors were there and they filled me in on what to expect as I went through the processing of editing, launching and publicising my book. (Festival Fireworks in case you’re asking, out in March 2018. And set in Edinburgh too.)lunch 2

Self-publishing, virtual book launches and book and craft fairs were other topics I learned a lot about from speaking to other authors and I came away with plenty to mull over and swot up. lunch 1

And Scotrail decided that after all that lovely food and drink, we would need some exercise to walk it off. So after climbing down the Scotsman Steps again to Waverley Station, we crossed and recrossed the station trying to find a train going to Glasgow that wasn’t cancelled. Third time lucky, we squeezed into a carriage and set off home.

Why is it that the trains to and from Ayr to Glasgow are long, comfortable with plenty of seats and lovely views while the trains between the two main cities in Scotland are much smaller, cramped, packed out and liable to be cancelled there and then? Or is that a question for another time, another blog?

But we all had a lovely day and many thanks to the President Linda Strachan and her committee for organising it all. Here’s to the next one!

 

A Breath of FreshAyr

FreshAyr opened with a rollicking start last week aided and abetted by various members of Ayr Writers Club, Scottish Screenwriters and many friends and associates.coffee

There were readings and sketches, music and coffee and it all went down a treat. Even the sun shone to help it on its way.

Robert Singer, the powerhouse behind it all, is hoping to develop the area into a creative arts centre showcasing the work of local artists, musicians and writers.general view

Herborg Hansen, the project coordinator, commented that,

the event showed a lot of support from creatives and set an example of what can be achieved by collaborating in reviving Ayr’s culture and town centre.

actors

Some of the actors in a sketch

FreshAyr is still in its very early stages and is run as a voluntary organisation. But we are expanding and recruiting and before long we hope be a charity organisation that turns café profits into creative action. But we depend on the collaboration from the community and urge people to get in touch regarding future exhibitions, performances or even if people want to get involved in supporting the project going forward.

janiceThere was a lot of enthusiasm and interest shown by the Saturday shoppers in the town who ventured in to see what was afoot.

I did a couple of sessions for kids, one a deliberately noisy session with Miss Hullaballoo  who insisted that everyone, including parents, join in a singalong of Rock-a-Bye-Baby and Sing  Song of Sixpence as loudly as they could.me FreshAyr

For the grown-ups, among others, Jennifer read her award winning story, Magda, Carolyn read a monologue and I met Robert Burns in heaven in my piece. Martin Bone, Douglas Skelton and Gail McPartland read extracts from their recently published novels while other members read short stories and poems.

And we even sold quite a few books!20170805_123554

my booksFreshAyr’s Facebook page is here for further information on upcoming events.

 

A Movable Feast of Writing

The session may have ended for the year for Ayr Writers’ Club but not for the writers. The long summer months stretch ahead with no weekly meetings to inspire, encourage and administer metaphorical kicks up the rear end to us – we need the sustained support of fellow writers to keep us going right to The End of whatever it is we’re writing.

To help us through the dry desert months of summer – another metaphor as Scottish summers are anything but dry deserts – we started the Summer Readarounds when we would meet every fortnight at a willing member’s home. Members would bring copies of their WIP (work in progress) to read aloud and be commented on by the others. Multiple copies are useful as a bit of proof-reading can be done at the same time!  To make it easy for someone to host a get-together, we stipulated that only tea, coffee and biscuits were required, to avoid someone feeling they had to embark upon a version of the Great British Bake-off, and that each member there would pay £2 to club funds.

The meetings have been going very successfully for several years now and there’s never a shortage of members willing to host or wishing to attend. We try to keep the numbers down to around a dozen and this allows everyone a chance to read and have their work critiqued. And also means that there are chairs for everyone!

There has been a recent, very welcome addition in the shape of cake, courtesy of Chris who is determined to undermine everyone’s diet plans. Still, it’s good for the brain they say.

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image – freepick.com

The first of this summer’s Readaround meetings was last week and we had a marvellous selection of writing from members; flash fiction with twist endings, a short story that we recommended be even shorter, (and which the writer has already edited. Kudos Carolyn!)  a novel being turned into a screenplay, part of a memoir which is a prequel to an already published book, a thriller, an article on a suitcase filled with old books from the writer’s childhood (already destined for publication in the local newspaper), a poem and an ongoing saga of self-publishing.

Yes, that last one was me! And yes, hopefully it won’t be long now before I can announce the publication of A Drop of Rainbow Magic, stories and poems (with a difference) for children. Blatant advertising again.Rainbow 2 copy

It’s so useful receiving feedback from other writers on your work as they spot things that you don’t see – typos, repetition, characters doing or saying the opposite from what they said or did previously, sudden changes of location or viewpoint, authorial intervention (guilty!) and what words in a title should or shouldn’t have capital letters. Still working on that one, Gill.