Aled Evans watched his hampster run like crazy around a wheel inside its cage. 

      ‘Don’t your tiny feet get tired?’ he frowned. ‘Don’t you feel sick?’

     The hamster slowed down and looked at Aled. Aled stared into its eyes for an answer, but he didn’t get one.

     ‘It must be like living in school every single day,’ Aled looked disgusted. ‘If that’s how it feels, then I have no choice but to set you free.’

      The hampster went even faster than before.

      ‘Wouldn’t you like to be free to run around the world?’ Aled shouted into the cage. But the hamster ignored him.

       ‘Oh, I would love to run around the world,’ said Aled leaning against his bed. And he wondered if this was possible. Everybody would notice me then, he thought, even my teacher.

       ‘I will start practising,’ said Aled to the hamster. ‘And when I am ten, I will be fit enough to run around the world.

      So Aled Evans ran around the garden five times, then ten times, then fifteen times. By the end of the week he could run around the garden fifty times without stopping and without getting out of breath. It was a good sized garden too.

      The following week, Aled began to run around the village of Gusty Gully. This was more of a challenge. ‘I can do this,’ thought Aled. I can do anything if I try hard enough.’

      Aled Evans smiled to himself as he ran through the village. He saw people watching him. He could see them peeping around the curtains of their homes. I like this, he thought. No one has ever noticed me before.

      ‘Where are you running to?’ shouted Phil the Fish as Aled whizzed past him. Ugh! The smell of fish makes me feel sick, thought Aled. So ran even faster and shouted, ‘around the world!’ on the top of his voice.

     ‘Can I join in?’ said Tom the Egg as he ran passed the home for waifs and strays.

      Aled put up his hand and nodded.

     ‘Can we come too?’ said Archie and Ollie as they walked home from school.

     Tom put up his hand again and nodded.

     ‘Where are you going?,’ shouted Megan and Hayley as they came out of the sweet shop.

    ‘Around the world,’ Tom the egg shouted back.

    ‘We’re coming too!’ said the girls and they stuffed their sweets in their pockets and began to run.

     Aled looked back and saw the trail of children following him. They will notice me now, he thought and grinned from ear to ear.

     Mrs Bumblebee was standing outside the school watching them come up the road. When she saw who it was, she put her hand up for them to stop, just like a lollipop lady. But they didn’t stop. They ran past her and kept on going. Mrs Bumblebee was so shocked, she ran after them.

     ‘Where are you going?’ she shouted breathlessly.

     ‘Around the world,’ they all shouted back. And by now, almost all the children in the village were running.

     It was Barry Book and Pencil that stopped them. You see, he was the village policeman. He jumped off his bicycle and put his hand up. The trail of running children skidded to a halt, almost crashing into one and other. Barry Book and Pencil lined them all up against the hedge at the home for waifs and strays. The kind and unassuming man watched in amazement.

     ‘What are you doing?’ said the policemen, reaching inside his coat for a book and pencil.

     ‘Running around the world,’ replied Aled proudly.

     ‘What do you want to do that for?’ Barry Book and Pencil was taking notes. ‘There will be no one left in the village if you all leave.’

    ‘There would be no school,’ said Mrs Bumblebee.

    ‘And no need for a village shop,’ said Ian the news.

    ‘And no-one to help look after all the waifs and strays,’ said the lady who’s garden was full of animals that needed a lot of love and attention. This made Tom the Egg feel guilty.

    ‘And who would buy my fish?’ said Phil the Fish ‘if there were no children to feed.’

    They could live in the sea, Aled thought happily, as he looked at everyone, looking at him.

    This is amazing, I could keep on running and they would all follow me! He thought.

    But he didn’t carry on running. Instead, Aled stood in front of his friends and knew  that Barry book and Pencil was right, Gusty Gully would become a Ghost town and grow weeds. The crows and the seagulls would squat in empty places and there would be no one to help at the home for waifs and strays. No, he couldn’t do that, not yet anyway.

    ‘This is our home,’ he said nodding his head. ‘This is our world, until we grow up and can go our own way. And we do need a lot more practice.’

     They all agreed and Barry Book and Pencil put his notes away and sighed with relief.

     That night as Aled watched the hamster run around her ball, he smiled at her.

     ‘And this is your world too,’ he said happily. ‘You are well fed, warm and safe.’

‘Goodnight, all you runners in Gusty Gully. Goodnight world. One day I will run around you...and all the way back!’

Ok, so this is a love story about two worms who live in the garden at our home for waifs and strays. I guess I might lose some readers, but hang on a minute! Worms have five hearts and breathe in air and breathe out carbon dioxide, just like us. So why not stay a bit longer. It wont take long. Their names are Wilma and Willmott.

     ‘Do it now,’ said Wilma bossily, ‘while it’s dark!’

     ‘Why does it always have to be me?’ replied grumpy Willmott. ‘You know I’m afraid of the dark!’

     ‘You’re a grown worm,’ said Wilma, ‘worms live in the dark, and we need more air down here!’

     ‘But it’s scary up there. And those chickens bit off uncle Teds head, remember? I want to keep my head Wilma. Why don’t you do it for a change?’

      ‘Willmott Wormery!’ Wilma shouted and made some earth slide down the side of their sitting room, ‘You are a coward and Uncle Ted was a fool!’ she said crossly. ‘He went up in the daytime. What did he expect?’

      ‘Not to lose his head, that’s for certain!’ said Willmott quivering.

      ‘It’s dark now,’ said Wilma more gently, ‘I can’t go, I can hardly breathe!’

      Willmott  loved his wife. She was getting old and lucky to have survived as long as she had but that was probably because he had taken such good care of her, he thought. No, he couldn’t possible let her do it. He had to pluck up the courage and go himself.

      As Willmott slid up to the top of their burrow, Wilma made the sign of the cross. ‘Don’t let anything happen to him,’ she said silently, ‘he’s a grumpy old so and so but I still love him.’

      Willmott anxiously stuck his head out into the open and breathed in the cool night air. It was good, he thought and almost forgot to check for predators.    

      ‘Be quick!’ shouted Wilma. ‘before you lose your head too!'

      Willmott began to drag bits of leaves and straw into the burrow. Wilma helped at this point, by reaching up to get them.

      ‘Ah that’s better already,’ she said. ‘I can breathe easier now.’

      Willmott dragged some tiny stones into the entrance. 

      ‘We’ll soon have lots more air in here Wilma,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Put some supper on! I’ll be down now in a minute!’    (Remember, these are Welsh worms!)

      Just as Wilma was about to prepare the food, she heard an almighty scream. It was poor Willmott.

      ‘It’s a chicken!’ he cried, his voice full of terror.

      Wilma dropped everything and slid quickly up the burrow after poor Willmott.

       ‘He’s got me!’ shouted Willmott. ‘Goodbye Wilma!’

       Poor Wilma struggled to the top to see that Willmott still had his head and was smiling.

       ‘What on earth are you playing at Willmott?’ she said breathlessly.

       Willmott turned and wrapped himself around Wilma. ‘I needed to know that you truly loved me,’ he said grinning, ‘and now I know that you do!’ Then he kissed her!

Princess Aspersa lives in the garden at our home for waifs and strays. Helix aspersa is her scientific name but she much prefers to be called Princess. She parades about in her yellow shell with a spiral of ribbony brown. Like all snails, Princess Aspersa longed to find her prince.

     Now down in the pond, beneath a lily pad, lives General Stagnalis. General Stagnalis (his scientific name of course) is a handsome pond snail but a bit of a lad and always on the lookout for a beautiful maiden.

     One day,  during the summer months, the princess was resting in the shade at the edge of the pond. General Stagnalis had a sharp eye and spotted her the minute he came up for air. She was different, he thought, like nothing he had ever seen before.

      Princess Aspersa was quick to spot the general too, but she turned her head as soon as he looked her way. Her heart beat faster than a downpour of rain and she tapped her foot nervously.

      ‘Hello,’ said a strange voice that did not come from the handsome snail in the pond. ‘I’m Prince Helix, at your service!’

      Princess Aspersa turned her head and gasped. There in front of her was the prince of her dreams. She blushed and fluttered her long eye lashes. But remembering the handsome snail in the pond, she turned back to see him still watching her. It was typical, she thought, not just one suitable partner but two had to turn up at the same time.

       The general saw what was happening and panicked. He wanted the princess more than he wanted anything else before. He swam to the edge of the pond and began to crawl towards the princess.

       ‘Come with me,’ said the general to the princess. ‘I have a beautiful home beneath the lily pad.’

       The poor princess did not know what to do.

       ‘Ah, I see you have your sights on the general,’ said the prince. ‘It’s a pity we cannot live beneath the water, just as he cannot live above it. His loss is my gain!’

       Princess Aspersa, kissed General Stagnalis on his head and told him to go back into the water where he was safe.

       ‘I would rather die than live without you,’ said the general.

       ‘Don’t be ridicules,’ said the prince, ‘why would you want to die when you have many princesses in your own pond?’

       The general thought about this and turned to the pond where a group of beautiful pond snails called to him. He stuck his chest out proudly and bid the princess farewell.

       The princess sighed. It was easy, she thought, as she did not have to choose between the general and the prince.

       Prince Helix and Princess Aspersa, left the pond for the castle under the shed. And they lived happily ever after.

Just like the tale of A Chicken called Sandwich over on my ‘small page’, we once had a sheep called Sandwich too.

I found Sandwich (named because there was more meat on a sandwich than on the poor lamb) in a field, close to death. It was obvious that he couldn’t walk though he did try to stand. I went to tell the farmer, but was told he had died that morning. The family informed me that they would see to the lamb straight away. I trusted this would happen, but a gut feeling told me to check on this the following day. Sandwich was still there and still suffering.

     So I went to the farm again and told them about the lamb.

     ‘I will take the lamb myself if that would help you!’ I said to the obviously grieving family.

     ‘Take it!’ was the reply and so that’s exactly what I did.

     Without even consulting my kind and unassuming husband, I carefully laid the tiny lamb on the front seat of my car and drove home. I didn’t stop to consider what I would do with it, apart from taking it to the vets for a check up.

      Back at our home for waifs and strays, we were greeted by three fat cats and a curious husband.

      ‘I have something on my front seat that is very precious,’ I said seriously, ‘and there was nothing I could do but to bring it home.’

      My kind and unassuming husband opened the door and stared at the little lamb sleeping contentedly on my coat. He picked him up gently and without questions, carried him into the house.

      ‘We have to take him to the vet,’ I said, so I went inside and called him.

      With the help and advice from the vet on the phone, Sandwich soon had a bottle of proper lamb’s milk and a lot of love. He looked at us and bleated whilst his black woolly tail wagged. He couldn’t walk but I took it that he was feeling a lot better.

      But later that day, the vet x-rayed poor Sandwich and we learnt that his back was broken, probably hit by a car. We decided to let Sandwich stay in this world until the following morning, with the help of pain relief, so that he would know what love and kindness was before being put to sleep.

      Although Sandwich lived such a short while, even the daffodils lived longer, he died peacefully, knowing someone cared.

It was a watery sun that set over our home for waifs and strays this evenings and I stood for quite some time, mesmerised by its beauty and the silence surrounding us at the time. I wasn’t aware, when I clicked my camera, that the tree in the garden had captured the sun in its moment of glory.

    Now, looking over the photos I took just a wee while ago, I felt a change in the atmosphere of the land surrounding us. Winter has come!

    It is almost dark now, the fire is lit and my kind and unassuming husband is brewing up a pot of sweet tea. Outside, the hens are locked up in their cosy house and curled up on a bale of straw in the old wooden shed, is our elusive polecat.

    Until tomorrow, nos da, goodnight!