TED GREENWOOD
Copyright © 2022 The Estate of Edward Greenwood under exclusive license to Anthology Editions, LLC
All rights reserved
First published in 1969 by Angus & Robertson Ltd.
This edition published in 2022 by Anthology Editions
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021949840 ISBN: 978-1-944860-47-9
Printed in China
. . . in the mind of its Maker.
The Maker jumped from bed and searched for things.
Well, to be truthful he ate his breakfast first.
He found some old bamboo canes in the shed.
Straight and tall they were.
Puss, playing with a string end, led him
to that cupboard under the stairs
where you needed a torch to see all that was inside.
The torchlight followed the string and ended on the top shelf.
A fat ball of string it was too.
Papers were needed; the window seat was the place for those.
Inside it were all sorts of papers.
The Maker chose some sheets you could nearly see through
Sticky tape was always a nuisance to find.
On the mantelpiece behind the clock? In the drawer with the knives, forks, or spoons?
Or — yes — with the grater and can opener and — well, you know what else would be there.
The Maker went out to the workshop where he often watched his Dad working.
and then he just looked at the kite he had made.
Something was missing — that’s right, a tail.
And a tail it was given made from an old striped shirt found in the rag-bag. The tail was long
but the string to hold the kite was longer.
the leaves were still and the trees straight.
The Maker went back inside and hung up his kite to wait for the right time.
Out into the sunshine went the Maker but
Two days . . . three . . . and then
out ran the Maker.
The leaves were shivering and the trees waving.
The wind caught at the tail of the kite
and tugged at the string . . .
First time up and then down it swooped on the blackberries.
Mrs Pinch who lived on one side said ‘And a good place too for that kite.’
Second time up and then down it dived into the pond.
The Maker squeezed the tail and dried the paper in the sunlight.
Mr Crinkle who lived on the other side said ‘You know you have an obstreperous kite there.’
The Maker frowned.
‘Obstre — I beg your pardon?’
‘Ob stre per ous,’ said Mr Crinkle. ‘It means naughty and hard to manage.’
‘That is my kite,’ said the Maker, ‘and that shall be its name.
‘I will give it a face to match.’
The face was green and it looked ob stre per ous. At least, so thought the Maker.
Obstreperous flew a third time. It flew higher than before taking more and more string.
Down over Mr Crinkle’s house weaved Obstreperous. It tried to hit him as he bent over his cabbages. Mr Crinkle just laughed and disappeared inside for something.
Over Mrs Pinch’s house soared Obstreperous and then ducked towards her washing.
Mrs Pinch shouted at it and at the Maker too. She did not like the look of Obstreperous and she ran to her shed for something.
Mr Crinkle appeared with a huge pair of bellows.
Every time Obstreperous swooped down, he blew it up again.
Mrs Pinch came out with a long garden fork. Every time Obstreperous dived she threatened to poke it.
The Maker clung firmly to the string as Obstreperous climbed higher and higher weaving and ducking.
Mr Crinkle’s bellows could not blow it away. Mrs Pinch’s garden fork could not spike it through.
The Maker had nearly reached the end of the string when a crimson parrot flew across the sky.
It would test its beak on anything and it liked the look of the string.
and dive and sail and glide away from the Maker, from Mr Crinkle’s bellows, from Mrs Pinch’s garden fork.
The face of Mr Crinkle was sorry as he looked over the fence at the Maker.
The face of Mrs Pinch looked glad as she went back to her washing.
The face of the Maker looked sad as his eyes followed the string that went nowhere.
The face of Obstreperous looked happy as it saw the string that
once went to the hand of the Maker.
