‘Let’s go out,’ says Grandad. ‘It’s a lovely June day.’
‘I’m playing my game,’ I reply. ‘No way.’
He’s putting the breakfast things into the sink, Then he stops ... and gives Leo the cat a big wink.
‘My hat!’ he calls out. ‘I’ve dropped it, oh no!
Catch it! It’s really my favourite, you know.’
I sigh. Grandad loves playing these jokes on me.
He threw the hat out and thinks I didn’t see.
‘Okaaay, then,’ I say, though I’d much rather stay. Here goes yet another ordinary day.
We go down the steps and ... What’s happening here?
Why’s everyone wearing this old-fashioned gear?
Eccles Street looks like it did years ago.
A lady in a big poofy dress says hello.
I jump up to catch Grandad’s hat. Oops, too high!
The postman helps too, on his bike passing by.
The hat flies on down to a busy school yard.
‘Oh, Grandad,’ I say, ‘this is going to be hard.’
There are so many children, all rushing about.
When they notice the hat, they all jump up and shout.