Game 11: Round 3
The book for Round three is Wish for a Pony by Monica Edwards and is as lovely a piece of 1950s wish fulfillment pony book as one could hope to find. It belonged to my mother.
Blurb
Tamzin and Rissa live, sleep and dream horses, and although neither of them owns one, they always manage, by diverse ways and means, to get at least one to ride a week; and meantime both of them keep wishing and wishing for a pony.
Excerpt
"What can be the matter with Rissa?" said Mr Grey, with one eyebrow higher than the other.
"Most likely nothing," his wife replied, passing tea. "She generally gets about in that fashion."
"May I leave the table Mummy?"
Mrs Grey nodded and Tamzin was gone.
"They do seem to waste a lot of energy between them," Mr Grey remarked, helping Diccon with his cup of warm milk-cocoa.
"They're the age for it," said his wife, and she rose to pick up the blue tray.
...
"Have you heard?"
"Heard what Rissa?"
"About the horses on the beach."
"No! What horses? do hurry up!"
"It's a real riding school Tam, come down to Dunsmere Sands for the holidays. They've come from some place inland. John told me, and he ought to know; he says they've rented those sheds behind his house and turned them into stables."
Poll
deadline: midnight Monday 10th March GMT (well thereabouts - I'll be asleep so as long as they're posted before my breakfast-time Tuesday you'll be fine)
Blurb
Tamzin and Rissa live, sleep and dream horses, and although neither of them owns one, they always manage, by diverse ways and means, to get at least one to ride a week; and meantime both of them keep wishing and wishing for a pony.
Excerpt
"What can be the matter with Rissa?" said Mr Grey, with one eyebrow higher than the other.
"Most likely nothing," his wife replied, passing tea. "She generally gets about in that fashion."
"May I leave the table Mummy?"
Mrs Grey nodded and Tamzin was gone.
"They do seem to waste a lot of energy between them," Mr Grey remarked, helping Diccon with his cup of warm milk-cocoa.
"They're the age for it," said his wife, and she rose to pick up the blue tray.
...
"Have you heard?"
"Heard what Rissa?"
"About the horses on the beach."
"No! What horses? do hurry up!"
"It's a real riding school Tam, come down to Dunsmere Sands for the holidays. They've come from some place inland. John told me, and he ought to know; he says they've rented those sheds behind his house and turned them into stables."
Poll
deadline: midnight Monday 10th March GMT (well thereabouts - I'll be asleep so as long as they're posted before my breakfast-time Tuesday you'll be fine)