Chasing dreams and flying kites

Now and then I land up with a great book like Danny Champion of the World.

The trouble with being a monster who loves to read is that you never get a chance to go to a library or join a book club. Though that is the sad side of my story, the happier side is that I get to read different genres and also books meant for kids of all ages. But, I have to make a quick choice before the kid comes into the bedroom and discovers me. You know the drama that would follow if you were to find a monster in your room ... screaming and howling and of course, the tears.

Anyway, tonight, I am at Adith’s house. A vain boy I must say because he has a big poster of himself with Adith scrawled across it. He didn’t have much of a collection. I chose one that seemed interesting and flicked through the pages. The illustrations were quirky and my eye fell on one that depicted a caravan.

I read, “The caravan was our house and our home. It was a real old gipsy wagon with big wheels and fine patterns painted all over it in yellow and red and blue. My father said it was at least a hundred and fifty years old. Many gipsy children, he said, had been born in it and had grown up within its wooden walls. With a horse to pull it, the old caravan must have wandered for thousands of miles along the roads and lanes of England. But now its wanderings were over, and because the wooden spokes in the wheels were beginning to rot, my father had propped it up underneath with bricks.”

That sealed the deal. I crawled under the bed and began to read. Oops, I almost forgot to tell you the name of the book. It’s called Danny the Champion of the World and it is by Roald Dahl. When I saw the author’s name, I remembered I had read some books of his earlier. BFG, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach and, of course, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

In this book, Danny is the one telling the story. His mother died when he was born and his father takes care of him. They own a filling station and small field behind it and live in a caravan.

Danny loves his father and spends all his time with him, often helping him at work. They have their share of adventures — flying kites and fire balloons, poaching, and more. Then, one day, a rich man named Victor Hazell drives up in his bright, shiny car. When Danny goes to fill petrol Mr. Hazell says, “And keep your filthy little hands to yourself, d’you understand?” And even threatens him with a hiding. I love the way Danny’s father tells Mr. Hazell off and sends him on his way.

I’m afraid I can’t tell you more of the story, though I am dying to do so. Because anything more and you will know the whole deal. Instead, get your hands on this book.