“Oh my God, the oven’s broken, the turkey will never be cooked in time for Christmas dinner!”
That was mum, shouting to no one in particular, from the kitchen as I was waking up on Christmas day.
Quick as flash, I jumped out of bed, pulled on my dressing gown and tripped downstairs to see if I could be of help.
How would I save the day?
My first thought was to hire a dragon. They’re not very busy at this time of year. They’re mostly waiting to start bonfires on the 31st December, not crisp up pigs-in-blankets on the 25th, Just as I was about to shout “I’ll call 111” I remembered that they’re better at burning things rather than cooking them.
My second thought was to call Dad, he was working at the fire service, he’d know how to get the fire in the oven started again. Afterall I was fairly sure that’s what firemen did. They started fires that were too small for dragons to handle. But he didn’t like me calling him at work, so I needed another plan.
Just then my third thought, and boy was it going to be great, was interrupted,
“Stop standing there like a lemon, get some clothes on and ride this bird around to your gran’s, NOW!”
“Yes, mum,” I sharply saluted. It looked like I would be a hero after all.
