A Little English

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:52 and the tiny lessons begin at 17:58

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hey, this is Cooper. I’m playing around with some of the options in my podcast host and one thing that I can do is add little messages to ALL the episodes. So. Yesterday we reached a thousand downloads. That’s totally crazy to me. Amazing. I just want to say, thank you! Let’s get on to the story. 

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

Today we are going to continue with The Hanging Stranger. Again, this story is definitely NOT for children. And if you thought it was weird before….hang on. At the end of the last part, Ed Loyce was on the run. He had seen a dead guy hanging from a lamppost, but he was the only one who was worried about it. Everyone else thought that was….just fine. He ended up in a police car, but he didn’t recognize the cops. So he ran away. Are you ready for more scares? Here we go!

He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards and ruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A street light wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.

And to his right—the police station.

He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocery store rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barred windows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in the darkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them.

Them?

Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the City Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brass and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.

And—something else.

Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser than the surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky.

He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.

Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.

Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness that hung above him.

He was seeing—them.

For a long time Loyce watched, crouched behind a sagging fence in a pool of scummy water.

They were landing. Coming down in groups, landing on the roof of the City Hall and disappearing inside. They had wings. Like giant insects of some kind. They flew and fluttered and came to rest—and then crawled crab-fashion, sideways, across the roof and into the building.

He was sickened. And fascinated. Cold night wind blew around him and he shuddered. He was tired, dazed with shock. On the front steps of the City Hall were men, standing here and there. Groups of men coming out of the building and halting for a moment before going on.

Were there more of them?

It didn't seem possible. What he saw descending from the black chasm weren't men. They were alien—from some other world, some other dimension. Sliding through this slit, this break in the shell of the universe. Entering through this gap, winged insects from another realm of being.

On the steps of the City Hall a group of men broke up. A few moved toward a waiting car. One of the remaining shapes started to re-enter the City Hall. It changed its mind and turned to follow the others.

Loyce closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight, clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man-shape, had abruptly fluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk and came to rest among them.

Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men. Like other insects familiar to Earth. Protective coloration. Mimicry.

Loyce pulled himself away. He got slowly to his feet. It was night. The alley was totally dark. But maybe they could see in the dark. Maybe darkness made no difference to them.

He left the alley cautiously and moved out onto the street. Men and women flowed past, but not so many, now. At the bus-stops stood waiting groups. A huge bus lumbered along the street, its lights flashing in the evening gloom.

Loyce moved forward. He pushed his way among those waiting and when the bus halted he boarded it and took a seat in the rear, by the door. A moment later the bus moved into life and rumbled down the street.

Loyce relaxed a little. He studied the people around him. Dulled, tired faces. People going home from work. Quite ordinary faces. None of them paid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats, jiggling with the motion of the bus.

The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read the sports section, his lips moving. An ordinary man. Blue suit. Tie. A businessman, or a salesman. On his way home to his wife and family.

Across the aisle a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, a package on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater. Gazing absently ahead of her.

A high school boy in jeans and black jacket.

A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded with packages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness.

Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home to their families. To dinner.

Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to be deep in his cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked. They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect, foolproof.

Maybe there were others.

Hope flickered in Loyce. They weren't omnipotent. They had made a mistake, not got control of him. Their net, their field of control, had passed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down. Apparently their power-zone was limited.

A few seats down the aisle a man was watching him. Loyce broke off his chain of thought. A slender man, with dark hair and a small mustache. Well-dressed, brown suit and shiny shoes. A book between his small hands. He was watching Loyce, studying him intently. He turned quickly away.

Loyce tensed. One of them? Or—another they had missed?

The man was watching him again. Small dark eyes, alive and clever. Shrewd. A man too shrewd for them—or one of the things itself, an alien insect from beyond.

The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token into the box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loyce.

The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split second something passed between them.

A look rich with meaning.

Loyce got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One step down into the well. He yanked the emergency door release. The rubber door swung open.

"Hey!" the driver shouted, jamming on the brakes. "What the hell—"

Loyce squirmed through. The bus was slowing down. Houses on all sides. A residential district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him, the bright-eyed man had leaped up. The elderly man was also on his feet. They were coming after him.

Loyce leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled against the curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain and a vast tide of blackness. Desperately, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then slid down again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off.

Loyce groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock, lying in the gutter. He crawled to his feet, grunting with pain. A shape loomed before him. A man, the bright-eyed man with the book.

Loyce kicked. The man gasped and fell. Loyce brought the rock down. The man screamed and tried to roll away. "Stop! For God's sake listen—"

He struck again. A hideous crunching sound. The man's voice cut off and dissolved in a bubbling wail. Loyce scrambled up and back. The others were there, now. All around him. He ran, awkwardly, down the sidewalk, up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and were bending over the inert body of the man with the book, the bright-eyed man who had come after him.

Had he made a mistake?

But it was too late to worry about that. He had to get out—away from them. Out of Pikeville, beyond the crack of darkness, the rent between their world and his.

I think that’s a pretty good place to stop for today. 

Yeah. Ed just murdered a guy. The question is, was it a guy? Or was it a horrible bug monster? Are there even any bug monsters? Or is Ed going crazy? This is the kind of stuff I was talking about with Philip K Dick, the author. You never really know what’s going on. Maybe Ed’s crazy, or maybe…..he’s not. And which one would be more horrible? Anyway, how about some lessons?

The Big Picture’s looking pretty dark today!

Here’s kind of a really big picture. What Is Philip K Dick trying to say about normal people? Like the people on the bus. Does he like them? Why do you think so? 

I know what I think. I think he hates them. Not only because he suggests that maybe all the people on the bus are horrible bug monsters from another dimension, but also because he uses words like “Dulled,” “Dim,” “Ordinary” to describe them. He also suggests that they might be mind controlled by aliens.  

Let’s Dance at the Dictionary Disco like Zombies in that Michael Jackson video.

The first word is kind of a combination word. “Pseudo-men.” “Pseudo” means fake, or not real. So Pseudo-men are…fake men. Bug monsters. 

The second word is “omnipotent.” “Omni” means “everything,” and “Potent” means “powerful.” So he’s saying that the bug monsters are NOT totally powerful. If they are real, of course.

Maybe, a Melody Moment?

Talking about voicing more. Let’s talk about “S” and “Z” They’re almost the same sound. Just ZZ is voiced, and SS is unvoiced. Where it gets interesting is at the end of words. So in the story a lady is wearing nylons and heels. Both of those words finish with the letter S. But the sound is definitely a Z. How about Shapes? Tha has a Ssss sound. “Monsters?” that’s a Z. Ghere’s another one we’ll talk about another time.

For now, I’d like you to decide: is Ed crazy? Or are there really bug monsters? Why do you think so? Maybe write it down before you listen to part three. 

And let’s read the credits. 

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 1 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:30 and the tiny lessons begin at 23:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

and….welcome to season two! This season we are reading science fiction stories by Philip K. Dick. I have to warn you, these stories are….not for kids. There aren’t any bad words or anything, but they’re pretty dark. I’ll talk more about Philip K. Dick at the end of the story, but….yeah. Spooky. Happy Halloween!

The Hanging Stranger, part one. 

Five o'clock. Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement and wheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had done okay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and he liked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!

It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurrying commuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles and packages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerks and businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a red light and then started it up again. The store had been open without him; he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over the records of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He drove slowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, the town park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES AND SERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Again he passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountain and bench and single lamppost.

From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle, swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolled down his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display of some kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in the square.

Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the park and concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was a display it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and he swallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.

It was a body. A human body.

"Look at it!" Loyce snapped. "Come on out here!"

Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripe coat with dignity. "This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guy standing there."

"See it?" Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted up against the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. "There it is. How the hell long has it been there?" His voice rose excitedly. "What's wrong with everybody? They just walk on past!"

Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. "Take it easy, old man. There must be a good reason, or it wouldn't be there."

"A reason! What kind of a reason?"

Fergusson shrugged. "Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put that wrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?"

Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. "What's up, boys?"

"There's a body hanging from the lamppost," Loyce said. "I'm going to call the cops."

"They must know about it," Potter said. "Or otherwise it wouldn't be there."

"I got to get back in." Fergusson headed back into the store. "Business before pleasure."

Loyce began to get hysterical. "You see it? You see it hanging there? A man's body! A dead man!"

"Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee."

"You mean it's been there all afternoon?"

"Sure. What's the matter?" Potter glanced at his watch. "Have to run. See you later, Ed."

Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along the sidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiously at the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid any attention.

"I'm going nuts," Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb and crossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him. He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.

The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a gray suit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had never seen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, and in the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skin was gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. A pair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. His eyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.

"For Heaven's sake," Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nausea and made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, with revulsion—and fear.

Why? Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?

And—why didn't anybody notice?

He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. "Watch it!" the man grated, "Oh, it's you, Ed."

Ed nodded dazedly. "Hello, Jenkins."

"What's the matter?" The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. "You look sick."

"The body. There in the park."

"Sure, Ed." Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES AND SERVICE. "Take it easy."

Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. "Something wrong?"

"Ed's not feeling well."

Loyce yanked himself free. "How can you stand here? Don't you see it? For God's sake—"

"What's he talking about?" Margaret asked nervously.

"The body!" Ed shouted. "The body hanging there!"

More people collected. "Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?"

"The body!" Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught at him. He tore loose. "Let me go! The police! Get the police!"

"Ed—"

"Better get a doctor!"

"He must be sick."

"Or drunk."

Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell. Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Men and women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past them toward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man, showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the service counter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically. His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.

"Do something!" he screamed. "Don't stand there! Do something! Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!"

The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops moving efficiently toward Loyce.

"Name?" the cop with the notebook murmured.

"Loyce." He mopped his forehead wearily. "Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me. Back there—"

"Address?" the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly through traffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against the seat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.

"1368 Hurst Road."

"That's here in Pikeville?"

"That's right." Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. "Listen to me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—"

"Where were you today?" the cop behind the wheel demanded.

"Where?" Loyce echoed.

"You weren't in your shop, were you?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I was home. Down in the basement."

"In the basement?"

"Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame. Why? What has that to do with—"

"Was anybody else down there with you?"

"No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school." Loyce looked from one heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope. "You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn't get in on it? Like everybody else?"

After a pause the cop with the notebook said: "That's right. You missed the explanation."

"Then it's official? The body—it's supposed to be hanging there?"

"It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see."

Ed Loyce grinned weakly. "Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deep end. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something like the Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists taking over." He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his hands shaking. "I'm glad to know it's on the level."

"It's on the level." The police car was getting near the Hall of Justice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lights had not yet come on.

"I feel better," Loyce said. "I was pretty excited there, for a minute. I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need to take me in, is there?"

The two cops said nothing.

"I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm all right, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—"

"This won't take long," the cop behind the wheel interrupted. "A short process. Only a few minutes."

"I hope it's short," Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for a stoplight. "I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, getting excited like that and—"

Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolled to his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the light changed. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people, burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts, people running.

They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop in Pikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a small town for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.

They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter, Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn't know—and they didn't care. That was the strange part.

Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past the startled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through the back door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concrete steps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side, gasping and panting.

There was no sound behind him. He had got away.

Pretty different from Winnie-the-Pooh, right?  Philip K. Dick was one of the really great science fiction authors of the 20th century. Maybe the greatest, really. Not all of his stories are as scary as this one, but they all ask a similar question: “what is real?” Like in this story, everyone can see a dead body hanging in the park, but only Ed Loyce is upset about it. So, is Ed crazy, or is something else happening? I guess you’ll have to come back for the next two weeks to find out. 

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, it’s time to check out the big picture. 

So, does this story take place in a city or a small town? Pause the show and think about it. Why do you think so?

I think it’s in a small town in America in the 1940s or 50s. Why? Well, at the end, Ed says you can’t work in a small town for twenty five years without knowing all the cops. And everyone just knows everyone else. Like they do in a small place. 

How about dancing with me at the dictionary disco?

Our first word is, “foundation.” It’s actually important for the plot that you know that word, the foundation of a building is the lowest part of it. It’s usually made of concrete, and it’s usually pretty deep underground, especially in the USA where houses have basements. 

The second word is: “hackles,” as in “the hackles on his neck rose.” The hackles are the little hairs on an animals back and neck that, well, rise when it gets angry or….scared. Like when a cat is gonna hiss at someone. You know that feeling, when something is just wrong or weird. You can feel it on the back of your neck. Spooooky!

How about we pause for a melody moment?

I’d like to talk about voicing. Voiced and unvoiced consonants are exactly the same, except that when you say a voiced sound, you vibrate your throat. So like for example, the difference between “t” and “d.” When you say them, your face is exactly the same, except that when you say the “D” you kind of bzzzzzz vibrate your throat. So, “d” is voiced, “t” is unvoiced. For example, “tear” and “dear.” Say them. You can touch your neck and feel the difference. 

Let’s try a little tiny quiz. “Bear” and “Pear.” Which one has the voiced sound at the beginning? Say them. Touch your neck.

Yup, it’s Bear. A “P” and “B” make the same sound, except that the “B” is….voiced.

Let’s go to the credits! 

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 1 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:54 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:40

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

 Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

Oh my goodness, this is the end of season one, the end of Winnie-the-Pooh. Well the first book at least. I’ll talk more after the story about what’s coming in season two, but for now, there is a LOT of Christopher Robin in this story, so….are you ready, Tabatha?

Part 2

When they had all nearly eaten enough, Christopher Robin banged on the table with his spoon, and everybody stopped talking and was very silent, except Roo who was just finishing a loud attack of hiccups and trying to look as if it was one of Rabbit’s relations.

“This party,” said Christopher Robin, “is a party because of what someone did, and we all know who it was, and it’s his party, because of what he did, and I’ve got a present for him and here it is.” Then he felt about a little and whispered, “Where is it?”

While he was looking, Eeyore coughed in an impressive way and began to speak.

“Friends,” he said, “including oddments, it is a great pleasure, or perhaps I had better say it has been a pleasure so far, to see you at my party. What I did was nothing. Any of you⁠—except Rabbit and Owl and Kanga⁠—would have done the same. Oh, and Pooh. My remarks do not, of course, apply to Piglet and Roo, because they are too small. Any of you would have done the same. But it just happened to be Me. It was not, I need hardly say, with an idea of getting what Christopher Robin is looking for now”⁠—and he put his front leg to his mouth and said in a loud whisper, “Try under the table”⁠—“that I did what I did⁠—but because I feel that we should all do what we can to help. I feel that we should all⁠—”

“H⁠—hup!” said Roo accidentally.

“Roo, dear!” said Kanga reproachfully.

“Was it me?” asked Roo, a little surprised.

“What’s Eeyore talking about?” Piglet whispered to Pooh.

“I don’t know,” said Pooh rather dolefully.

“I thought this was your party.”

“I thought it was once. But I suppose it isn’t.”

“I’d sooner it was yours than Eeyore’s,” said Piglet.

“So would I,” said Pooh.

“H⁠—hup!” said Roo again.

“As⁠—I⁠—was⁠—saying,” said Eeyore loudly and sternly, “as I was saying when I was interrupted by various Loud Sounds, I feel that⁠—”

“Here it is!” cried Christopher Robin excitedly. “Pass it down to silly old Pooh. It’s for Pooh.”

“For Pooh?” said Eeyore.

“Of course it is. The best bear in all the world.”

“I might have known,” said Eeyore. “After all, one can’t complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said ‘Bother!’ The Social Round. Always something going on.”

Nobody was listening, for they were all saying “Open it, Pooh,” “What is it, Pooh?” “I know what it is,” “No, you don’t” and other helpful remarks of this sort. And of course Pooh was opening it as quickly as ever he could, but without cutting the string, because you never know when a bit of string might be Useful. At last it was undone.

When Pooh saw what it was, he nearly fell down, he was so pleased. It was a Special Pencil Case. There were pencils in it marked “B” for Bear, and pencils marked “HB” for Helping Bear, and pencils marked “BB” for Brave Bear. There was a knife for sharpening the pencils, and india-rubber for rubbing out anything which you had spelt wrong, and a ruler for ruling lines for the words to walk on, and inches marked on the ruler in case you wanted to know how many inches anything was, and Blue Pencils and Red Pencils and Green Pencils for saying special things in blue and red and green. And all these lovely things were in little pockets of their own in a Special Case which shut with a click when you clicked it. And they were all for Pooh.

“Oh!” said Pooh.

“Oh, Pooh!” said everybody else except Eeyore.

“Thank you,” growled Pooh.

But Eeyore was saying to himself, “This writing business. Pencils and whatnot. Overrated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.”

Later on, when they had all said “Goodbye” and “Thank you” to Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”

“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”

“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

“And what did happen?” asked Christopher Robin.

“When?”

“Next morning.”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you think and tell me and Pooh some time?”

“If you wanted it very much.”

“Pooh does,” said Christopher Robin.

He gave a deep sigh, picked his bear up by the leg and walked off to the door, trailing Winnie-the-Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said “Coming to see me have my bath?”

“I might,” I said.

“Was Pooh’s pencil case any better than mine?”

“It was just the same,” I said.

He nodded and went out⁠ ⁠… and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh⁠—bump, bump, bump⁠—going up the stairs behind him.

And that is the end of the book. I’m actually having a lot of feelings right now. It took me about six months of preparation and practice to begin this podcast, and I always knew that I would read Winnie-the-Pooh to first. But I wasn’t sure what I would do after that. And now, here we are, at the end. It’s time to take a bath and put Edward Bear and Christopher Robin to bed. 

Like I always say in the credits, all the stories I read are in the public domain, which means that the copyright has expired on them. So far, only the first Winnie-the-pooh book is in the public domain, so I can’t continue with those stories. Not until next year, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting legal stuff, and you can google it yourself, if you want to.

Anyway, I’ve decided that for season two of A Little English, we are gonna do something different. We’re going to read some pretty weird science fiction stories by another one of my favorite authors, Philip K Dick. And since Halloween is coming up, we are gonna start with a spooky one, called The Hanging Stranger. These stories are also public domain, but they come from the 1950s and 60s, so I hope the language will be a little easier to understand.

Phil Dick’s stories are very different from AA Milne’s and I am super excited to get started. I hope you’re gonna come along for the ride. 

Anyway, let’s do some tiny lessons!

How is the Big Picture looking tonight?

I just have one question: why was it so important that Pooh got a pencil case as a present? There are a few answers, but I think the best one is that it’s exactly the same case as Christopher Robin-the real Christopher Robin- had. So the two best friends can write together. 

What about a dance at the Dictionary Disco?

There are two absolutely beastly adverbs in this story, and they’re right near each other. 

First Kanga speaks reproachfully. Whoa. Long word. Well. “Reproach” means to scold someone or speak with them like a mom to a kid. Like Kanga does….a lot. So reproachFULLY means to talk to someone….like……you are their Mom. And you just caught them doing something naughty. 

Right afterwards, Pooh speaks dolefully. I don’t think that you can be “dole.’ But you can be “doleful.” Full of dole? No. Doleful means sad or kinda depressed. So speaking “dolefully” is just a fancy 1926 way of saying “sadly.”

How about Season One’s final Melody Moment?

Actually I don’t have a new lesson for today. It’s the end of Season One, and I want to review. If you go all the way back to episode one, I talk about the Boots and Cats of English. That’s just another way to say the rhythm. Rhythm is incredibly important for spoken English. Actually, I think it’s the MOST important thing in speaking and listening to English. It’s created by having strong and weak syllables. Strong syllables generally sound like the way they are written. And weak syllables are made weak by reducing the vowel sound into a schwa. Or sometimes another sound, like the schwi. That’s it. That’s the key to sounding great in spoken English. Change about half your vowel sounds to schwas. So instead of O or A, you just say a little tiny….uh. 

DOn’t worry, I’ll talk a LOT more about this.

Let’s go to the credits! 

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 12 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter. 

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes. 

If you want to support this podcast, you can go to patreon.com/alittleenglish. If you do, you can join a private discord server for patrons, and you can chat with me. Ask me questions! Maybe I can help you with your homework!  Maybe :)

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:20 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:54

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

Well. We have come to the last chapter of the book. I’m going to split it into two parts again, just like last one. I think it’s kinda nice to keep the episodes a little shorter. Feel free to give me some feedback at [email protected]. But this is pretty emotional for me, because this book was a big part of my childhood, and I have had the chance to relive it with you though this podcast. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have. And, of course,  since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). Oh, and you get to hear me sing….quite a bit in this episode. Enjoy

One day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of May, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow’s fault, but it didn’t matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to see what was wanted.

“Owl,” said Christopher Robin, “I am going to give a party.”

“You are, are you?” said Owl.

“And it’s to be a special sort of party, because it’s because of what Pooh did when he did what he did to save Piglet from the flood.”

“Oh, that’s what it’s for, is it?” said Owl.

“Yes, so will you tell Pooh as quickly as you can, and all the others, because it will be tomorrow.”

“Oh, it will, will it?” said Owl, still being as helpful as possible.

“So will you go and tell them, Owl?”

Owl tried to think of something very wise to say, but couldn’t, so he flew off to tell the others. And the first person he told was Pooh.

“Pooh,” he said, “Christopher Robin is giving a party.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. And then seeing that Owl expected him to say something else, he said “Will there be those little cake things with pink sugar icing?”

Owl felt that it was rather beneath him to talk about little cake things with pink sugar icing, so he told Pooh exactly what Christopher Robin had said, and flew off to Eeyore.

“A party for Me?” thought Pooh to himself. “How grand!” And he began to wonder if all the other animals would know that it was a special Pooh Party, and if Christopher Robin had told them about The Floating Bear and the Brain of Pooh and all the wonderful ships he had invented and sailed on, and he began to think how awful it would be if everybody had forgotten about it, and nobody quite knew what the party was for; and the more he thought like this, the more the party got muddled in his mind, like a dream when nothing goes right. And the dream began to sing itself over in his head until it became a sort of song. It was an

Anxious Pooh Song

3 Cheers for Pooh!

(For Who?)

For Pooh⁠—

(Why what did he do?)

I thought you knew;

He saved his friend from a wetting!

3 Cheers for Bear!

(For where?)

For Bear⁠—

He couldn’t swim,

But he rescued him!

(He rescued who?)

Oh, listen, do!

I am talking of Pooh⁠—

(Of who?)

Of Pooh!

(I’m sorry I keep forgetting).

Well, Pooh was a Bear of Enormous Brain

(Just say it again!)

Of enormous brain⁠—

(Of enormous what?)

Well, he ate a lot,

And I don’t know if he could swim or not,

But he managed to float

On a sort of boat

(On a sort of what?)

Well, a sort of pot⁠—

So now let’s give him three hearty cheers

(So now let’s give him three hearty whiches?)

And hope he’ll be with us for years and years,

And grow in health and wisdom and riches!

3 Cheers for Pooh!

(For who?)

For Pooh⁠—

3 Cheers for Bear!

(For where?)

For Bear⁠—

3 Cheers for the wonderful Winnie-the-Pooh!

(Just tell me, somebody⁠—what did he do?)

While this was going on inside him, Owl was talking to Eeyore.

“Eeyore,” said Owl, “Christopher Robin is giving a party.”

“Very interesting,” said Eeyore. “I suppose they will be sending me down the odd bits which got trodden on. Kind and Thoughtful. Not at all, don’t mention it.”

“There is an Invitation for you.”

“What’s that like?”

“An Invitation!”

“Yes, I heard you. Who dropped it?”

“This isn’t anything to eat, it’s asking you to the party. Tomorrow.”

Eeyore shook his head slowly.

“You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That’s Piglet. I’ll tell him.”

“No, no!” said Owl, getting quite fussy. “It’s you!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Christopher Robin said ‘All of them! Tell all of them.’ ”

“All of them, except Eeyore?”

“All of them,” said Owl sulkily.

“Ah!” said Eeyore. “A mistake, no doubt, but still, I shall come. Only don’t blame me if it rains.”

But it didn’t rain. Christopher Robin had made a long table out of some long pieces of wood, and they all sat round it. Christopher Robin sat at one end, and Pooh sat at the other, and between them on one side were Owl and Eeyore and Piglet, and between them on the other side were Rabbit, and Roo and Kanga. And all Rabbit’s friends and relations spread themselves about on the grass, and waited hopefully in case anybody spoke to them, or dropped anything, or asked them the time.

It was the first party to which Roo had ever been, and he was very excited. As soon as ever they had sat down he began to talk.

“Hallo, Pooh!” he squeaked.

“Hallo, Roo!” said Pooh.

Roo jumped up and down in his seat for a little while and then began again.

“Hallo, Piglet!” he squeaked.

Piglet waved a paw at him, being too busy to say anything.

“Hallo, Eeyore!” said Roo.

Eeyore nodded gloomily at him. “It will rain soon, you see if it doesn’t,” he said.

Roo looked to see if it didn’t, and it didn’t, so he said “Hallo, Owl!”⁠—and Owl said “Hallo, my little fellow,” in a kindly way, and went on telling Christopher Robin about an accident which had nearly happened to a friend of his whom Christopher Robin didn’t know, and Kanga said to Roo, “Drink up your milk first, dear, and talk afterwards.” So Roo, who was drinking his milk, tried to say that he could do both at once⁠ ⁠… and had to be patted on the back and dried for quite a long time afterwards.

And that’s where we will leave it for this episode. 

I don’t want to stop reading pooh stories. I’m having a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the big Mouse still controls the rest of the old books.

But I promise, I’ll have something cool for you in season two. 

—----

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, we’ll observe the Big Picture 

I guess the biggest question I can ask is, why is Pooh anxious about the party? After all, he sings a song called Anxious Pooh Song. My best guess is that he’s really proud of what he did during the flood, and he is nervous that he won’t get recognized for it. Or that people would forget. Think about the song. It’s all about ”Let’s celebrate Pooh!”  and people answer….”Who?” He just wants some recognition. 

Now, let’s shake it on down to the Dictionary Disco

Let’s do….not a phrasal verb but a…phrasal adjective? “Beneath Him,” as in Owl thinking that cupcakes are Beneath him. Yes, it could mean literally like BELOW him. But it’s more talking about his position or his dignity. Like he’s too good for it. Owl is a fancy boy. 

The second vocabulary word is, Fussy. Owl is a fussy fellow. Fussy means that you are very worried about things being perfect or correct. That you’re hard to please. 

Like Owl. 

Finally, we will pause for a Melody Moment. 

I’ve spent most of this season talking about schwas and word stress, so why stop now? Let;s talk about these two sentences from the song: 

On a sort of what?

Well, a sort of pot

The last words in both lines, “What” and “pot.” What vowel sounds do they use? And what vowel spellings do they use?

What has an A. But guess what? Strong schwa. It’s an Uhh. But a strong one, because it’s important in the sentence. 

Pot is spelled with an O. But it has an “ah” sound. Try it yourself. “Pot.” It’s “Ah.” 

Spelling! Pronunciation!

Let’s go to the credits. 

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 11 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter. 

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes. 

If you want to support this podcast, you can go to patreon.com/alittleenglish. If you do, you can join a private discord server for patrons, and you can chat with me. Ask me questions! Maybe I can help you with your homework!  Maybe :)

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:30 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:25

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

  ALE S01E09

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. TToday we are reading the second part of chapter nine of Winnie-the-Pooh. Do you remember what happened last time? Well, there was a flood. Piglet was kind of….freaking out…so he made a message in a bottle. Pooh found the message, but couldn’t read it. So he took his….boat….-which was really just a floating honey pot-  to find Christopher Robin. And, of course,  since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). 

Christopher Robin lived at the very top of the Forest. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, but the water couldn’t come up to his house. It was rather jolly to look down into the valleys and see the water all round him, but it rained so hard that he stayed indoors most of the time, and thought about things. Every morning he went out with his umbrella and put a stick in the place where the water came up to, and every next morning he went out and couldn’t see his stick any more, so he put another stick in the place where the water came up to, and then he walked home again, and each morning he had a shorter way to walk than he had had the morning before. On the morning of the fifth day he saw the water all round him, and knew that for the first time in his life he was on a real island. Which was very exciting.

It was on this morning that Owl came flying over the water to say “How do you do,” to his friend Christopher Robin.

“I say, Owl,” said Christopher Robin, “isn’t this fun? I’m on an island!”

“The atmospheric conditions have been very unfavourable lately,” said Owl.

“The what?”

“It has been raining,” explained Owl.

“Yes,” said Christopher Robin. “It has.”

“The flood-level has reached an unprecedented height.”

“The who?”

“There’s a lot of water about,” explained Owl.

“Yes,” said Christopher Robin, “there is.”

“However, the prospects are rapidly becoming more favourable. At any moment⁠—”

“Have you seen Pooh?”

“No. At any moment⁠—”

“I hope he’s all right,” said Christopher Robin. “I’ve been wondering about him. I expect Piglet’s with him. Do you think they’re all right, Owl?”

“I expect so. You see, at any moment⁠—”

“Do go and see, Owl. Because Pooh hasn’t got very much brain, and he might do something silly, and I do love him so, Owl. Do you see, Owl?”

“That’s all right,” said Owl. “I’ll go. Back directly.” And he flew off.

In a little while he was back again.

“Pooh isn’t there,” he said.

“Not there?”

“Has been there. He’s been sitting on a branch of his tree outside his house with nine pots of honey. But he isn’t there now.”

“Oh, Pooh!” cried Christopher Robin. “Where are you?”

“Here I am,” said a growly voice behind him.

“Pooh!”

They rushed into each other’s arms.

“How did you get here, Pooh?” asked Christopher Robin, when he was ready to talk again.

“On my boat,” said Pooh proudly. “I had a Very Important Missage sent me in a bottle, and owing to having got some water in my eyes, I couldn’t read it, so I brought it to you. On my boat.”

With these proud words he gave Christopher Robin the missage.

“But it’s from Piglet!” cried Christopher Robin when he had read it.

“Isn’t there anything about Pooh in it?” asked Bear, looking over his shoulder.

Christopher Robin read the message aloud.

“Oh, are those P’s Piglets? I thought they were Poohs.”

“We must rescue him at once! I thought he was with you, Pooh. Owl, could you rescue him on your back?”

“I don’t think so,” said Owl, after grave thought. “It is doubtful if the necessary dorsal muscles⁠—”

“Then would you fly to him at once and say that Rescue is Coming? And Pooh and I will think of a Rescue and come as quick as ever we can. Oh, don’t talk, Owl, go on quick!” And, still thinking of something to say, Owl flew off.

“Now then, Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, “where’s your boat?”

“I ought to say,” explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the island, “that it isn’t just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it’s a Boat, and sometimes it’s more of an Accident. It all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On whether I’m on the top of it or underneath it.”

“Oh! Well, where is it?”

“There!” said Pooh, pointing proudly to The Floating Bear.

It wasn’t what Christopher Robin expected, and the more he looked at it, the more he thought what a Brave and Clever Bear Pooh was, and the more Christopher Robin thought this, the more Pooh looked modestly down his nose and tried to pretend he wasn’t.

“But it’s too small for two of us,” said Christopher Robin sadly.

“Three of us with Piglet.”

“That makes it smaller still. Oh, Pooh Bear, what shall we do?”

And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O.P. (Friend of Piglet’s), R.C. (Rabbit’s Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore’s Comforter and Tail-finder)⁠—in fact, Pooh himself⁠—said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had known and loved so long.

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“?”

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“??”

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“!!!!!!”

For suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but wobbled. Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right now, when he found that it wasn’t, so after a short drink which he didn’t really want he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both got in together, and it wobbled no longer.

“I shall call this boat The Brain of Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, and The Brain of Pooh set sail forthwith in a southwesterly direction, revolving gracefully.

You can imagine Piglet’s joy when at last the ship came in sight of him. In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was in the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull’s egg by mistake, and the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment luckily, a sudden loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself back into safety and say, “How interesting, and did she?” when⁠—well, you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, The Brain of Pooh (Captain, C. Robin; 1st Mate, P. Bear) coming over the sea to rescue him. Christopher Robin and Pooh again.⁠ ⁠…

And that is really the end of the story, and I am very tired after that last sentence, I think I shall stop there.

That really is how the story ends.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how, when I was a kid, Pooh was just the coolest to me. Which is funny, because he’s kind of, like, not….smart. But he is loyal and he tries really hard, and in the end, what else could you ask for from a friend?

What’s the Big Picture Looking like?

It’s pretty good. Everything turns out OK in the end. So…..how did they do it? Last time, I asked you to predict how they would rescue Piglet. Did you guess that Pooh and Christopher Robin would float over in an umbrella and get him? Yeah, I bet you did.

When I was a kid, I tried to do this. Use an umbrella like a boat to go floating away. Except in my case, it was just in a puddle, and I broke the umbrella. My parents were very, very patient people.  

How about a little vocab party at the dictionary Disco?

The first word I want to talk about is…Missage. Which is….not a word. It’s just Pooh being…well himself, I guess.

So let’s talk about “Jolly” Jolly is happy! Think like Santa Claus. So christopher Robin thinks it’s FUN to see a flood coming up around him.

The second vocabulary word for today is “unprecedented.” So a “precedent” is a fancy way of saying something that has happened before now. So, an “unprecedented” flood level is the highest it’s ever been. Not so jolly, really. 

Today’s melody moment is talking about a sound inside a word. I’m talking about “FLOOD.” Listen to the word. There are two O’s in it. F-L-O-O-D  So it should sound like my name…Cooper. But it doesn’t. The sound the two O’s make is….UH. Sounds like our old friend the Schwa, but it’s not. There is a big difference. It’s not tiny. It’s strong and powerful. Actually this sound is called….a strong schwa. And since “Flood” is one of the really important words in a sentence - not like “a” or “the” - it’s strong. It’s not a schwa, because schwas are pretty much only for….stuff that doesn’t matter. A flood…matters. 

Let’s go to the credits. 

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 10 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter. 

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes. 

If you want to support this podcast, you can go to patreon.com/alittleenglish. If you do, you can join a private discord server for patrons, and you can chat with me. Ask me questions! Maybe I can help you with your homework!  Maybe :)

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

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I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

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👉The story begins at 02:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:30

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A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

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TRANSCRIPT:

  ALE S01E09

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Nine of Winnie-the-Pooh. I asked some of my students for feedback on the show so far, and they said that the episodes are kind of long. So we are gonna try splitting this story into two episodes. After all, it is supposed to be…a LITTLE English. Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). 

IX

In Which Piglet Is Entirely Surrounded by Water

It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old⁠—three, was it, or four?⁠—never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days.

“If only,” he thought, as he looked out of the window, “I had been in Pooh’s house, or Christopher Robin’s house, or Rabbit’s house when it began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will stop.” And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, “Did you ever see such rain, Pooh?” and Pooh saying, “Isn’t it awful, Piglet?” and Piglet saying, “I wonder how it is over Christopher Robin’s way” and Pooh saying, “I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this time.” It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn’t much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn’t share them with somebody.

For it was rather exciting. The little dry ditches in which Piglet had nosed about so often had become streams, the little streams across which he had splashed were rivers, and the river, between whose steep banks they had played so happily, had sprawled out of its own bed and was taking up so much room everywhere, that Piglet was beginning to wonder whether it would be coming into his bed soon.

“It’s a little Anxious,” he said to himself, “to be a Very Small Animal Entirely Surrounded by Water. Christopher Robin and Pooh could escape by Climbing Trees, and Kanga could escape by Jumping, and Rabbit could escape by Burrowing, and Owl could escape by Flying, and Eeyore could escape by⁠—by Making a Loud Noise Until Rescued, and here am I, surrounded by water and I can’t do anything.”

It went on raining, and every day the water got a little higher, until now it was nearly up to Piglet’s window⁠ ⁠… and still he hadn’t done anything.

“There’s Pooh,” he thought to himself. “Pooh hasn’t much Brain, but he never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they turn out right. There’s Owl. Owl hasn’t exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things. He would know the Right Thing to Do when Surrounded by Water. There’s Rabbit. He hasn’t Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan. There’s Kanga. She isn’t Clever, Kanga isn’t, but she would be so anxious about Roo that she would do a Good Thing to Do without thinking about It. And then there’s Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow that he wouldn’t mind about this. But I wonder what Christopher Robin would do?”

Then suddenly he remembered a story which Christopher Robin had told him about a man on a desert island who had written something in a bottle and thrown it in the sea; and Piglet thought that if he wrote something in a bottle and threw it in the water, perhaps somebody would come and rescue him!

He left the window and began to search his house, all of it that wasn’t under water, and at last he found a pencil and a small piece of dry paper, and a bottle with a cork to it. And he wrote on one side of the paper:

help!

piglet (me)

and on the other side:

it’s me piglet, help help.

Then he put the paper in the bottle, and he corked the bottle up as tightly as he could, and he leant out of his window as far as he could lean without falling in, and he threw the bottle as far as he could throw⁠—splash!⁠—and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water; and he watched it floating slowly away in the distance, until his eyes ached with looking, and sometimes he thought it was the bottle, and sometimes he thought it was just a ripple on the water which he was following, and then suddenly he knew that he would never see it again and that he had done all that he could do to save himself.

“So now,” he thought, “somebody else will have to do something, and I hope they will do it soon, because if they don’t I shall have to swim, which I can’t, so I hope they do it soon.” And then he gave a very long sigh and said, “I wish Pooh were here. It’s so much more friendly with two.”

When the rain began Pooh was asleep. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, and he slept and he slept and he slept. He had had a tiring day. You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of this that he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such as a Bear of Little Brain might discover.

“There’s a South Pole,” said Christopher Robin, “and I expect there’s an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don’t like talking about them.”

Pooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested that they should have an Expotition to discover the East Pole, but Christopher Robin had thought of something else to do with Kanga; so Pooh went out to discover the East Pole by himself. Whether he discovered it or not, I forget; but he was so tired when he got home that, in the very middle of his supper, after he had been eating for little more than half-an-hour, he fell fast asleep in his chair, and slept and slept and slept.

Then suddenly he was dreaming. He was at the East Pole, and it was a very cold pole with the coldest sort of snow and ice all over it. He had found a beehive to sleep in, but there wasn’t room for his legs, so he had left them outside. And Wild Woozles, such as inhabit the East Pole, came and nibbled all the fur off his legs to make nests for their Young. And the more they nibbled, the colder his legs got, until suddenly he woke up with an Ow!⁠—and there he was, sitting in his chair with his feet in the water, and water all round him!

He splashed to his door and looked out.⁠ ⁠…

“This is Serious,” said Pooh. “I must have an Escape.”

So he took his largest pot of honey and escaped with it to a broad branch of his tree, well above the water, and then he climbed down again and escaped with another pot⁠ ⁠… and when the whole Escape was finished, there was Pooh sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were ten pots of honey.⁠ ⁠…

Two days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were four pots of honey.⁠ ⁠…

Three days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there beside him, was one pot of honey.

Four days later, there was Pooh⁠ ⁠…

And it was on the morning of the fourth day that Piglet’s bottle came floating past him, and with one loud cry of “Honey!” Pooh plunged into the water, seized the bottle, and struggled back to his tree again.

“Bother!” said Pooh, as he opened it. “All that wet for nothing. What’s that bit of paper doing?”

He took it out and looked at it.

“It’s a Missage,” he said to himself, “that’s what it is. And that letter is a P, and so is that, and so is that, and P means ‘Pooh,’ so it’s a very important Missage to me, and I can’t read it. I must find Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can’t swim. Bother!”

Then he had an idea, and I think that for a Bear of Very Little Brain, it was a good idea. He said to himself:

“If a bottle can float, then a jar can float, and if a jar floats, I can sit on the top of it, if it’s a very big jar.”

So he took his biggest jar, and corked it up. “All boats have to have a name,” he said, “so I shall call mine The Floating Bear.” And with these words he dropped his boat into the water and jumped in after it.

For a little while Pooh and The Floating Bear were uncertain as to which of them was meant to be on the top, but after trying one or two different positions, they settled down with The Floating Bear underneath and Pooh triumphantly astride it, paddling vigorously with his feet.

And that is where we will pause the story until next week.

Well…

There is some real danger and scary stuff happening in this Children’s story. 

This is kinda exciting.  

Let’s do some tiny lessons

First, let’s see what we can see in the Big Picture 

Since this is the first two-part story, let me ask you to make a prediction. What’s going to happen to piglet? Who do YOU think will rescue him, and how? Will he even BE rescued?

How about a boogie at the Dctionary Disco?

This week’s two words are right next to each other. Right at the end of the story. They’re…”Trimphantly astride.” Just a great phrase. Trimphantly….astride. 

So Triumphantly means, like the winner. A triumph is a victory. So, sitting as though he had just won a battle. Which…..he had. 

Astride. Tough one. Well, “Stride” is an old word for “step” and “A” means, like “On,” or “In” something. So it’s IN his step. Because he’s sitting on it. Like a horse. Except it’s a honey pot in the middle of a flood. 

Finally, let’s share a Melody Moment.

There’s one thing I say that I think is really important. The sentence was, “and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water” Listen to how I say the first four words. un dinuh liddul. Undinnuh. Schwas again, right? And it almost sounds like the word un dinnuh. Like two words that don’t make any sense. But that’s english. Those words aren’t really important. They’re just little tiny grammar things. They’re not important for the STORY. So we kinda…push them away. That’s the secret to English Melody. The stuff that’s not important, it just gets smushed away. 

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 9 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter. 

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes. 

If you want to support this podcast, you can go to patreon.com/alittleenglish. If you do, you can join a private discord server for patrons, and you can chat with me. Ask me questions! Maybe I can help you with your homework!  Maybe :)

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen. 

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you  so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other. 

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 28:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Eight of Winnie-the-Pooh. We are getting to the end of the book!  Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). 

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VIII

In Which Christopher Robin Leads an Expotition to the North Pole

One fine day Pooh had stumped up to the top of the Forest to see if his friend Christopher Robin was interested in Bears at all. At breakfast that morning (a simple meal of marmalade spread lightly over a honeycomb or two) he had suddenly thought of a new song. It began like this:

“Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!”

When he had got as far as this, he scratched his head, and thought to himself “That’s a very good start for a song, but what about the second line?” He tried singing “Ho,” two or three times, but it didn’t seem to help. “Perhaps it would be better,” he thought, “if I sang Hi for the life of a Bear.” So he sang it⁠ ⁠… but it wasn’t. “Very well, then,” he said, “I shall sing that first line twice, and perhaps if I sing it very quickly, I shall find myself singing the third and fourth lines before I have time to think of them, and that will be a Good Song. Now then:”

Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!

Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!

I don’t much mind if it rains or snows,

’Cos I’ve got a lot of honey on my nice new nose,

I don’t much care if it snows or thaws,

’Cos I’ve got a lot of honey on my nice clean paws!

Sing Ho! for a Bear!

Sing Ho! for a Pooh!

And I’ll have a little something in an hour or two!

He was so pleased with this song that he sang it all the way to the top of the Forest, “and if I go on singing it much longer,” he thought, “it will be time for the little something, and then the last line won’t be true.” So he turned it into a hum instead.

Christopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready for Anything.

“Good morning, Christopher Robin,” he called out.

“Hallo, Pooh Bear. I can’t get this boot on.”

“That’s bad,” said Pooh.

“Do you think you could very kindly lean against me, ’cos I keep pulling so hard that I fall over backwards.”

Pooh sat down, dug his feet into the ground, and pushed hard against Christopher Robin’s back, and Christopher Robin pushed hard against his, and pulled and pulled at his boot until he had got it on.

“And that’s that,” said Pooh. “What do we do next?”

“We are all going on an Expedition,” said Christopher Robin, as he got up and brushed himself. “Thank you, Pooh.”

“Going on an Expotition?” said Pooh eagerly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on one of those. Where are we going to on this Expotition?”

“Expedition, silly old Bear. It’s got an x in it.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “I know.” But he didn’t really.

“We’re going to discover the North Pole.”

“Oh!” said Pooh again. “What is the North Pole?” he asked.

“It’s just a thing you discover,” said Christopher Robin carelessly, not being quite sure himself.

“Oh! I see,” said Pooh. “Are bears any good at discovering it?”

“Of course they are. And Rabbit and Kanga and all of you. It’s an Expedition. That’s what an Expedition means. A long line of everybody. You’d better tell the others to get ready, while I see if my gun’s all right. And we must all bring Provisions.”

“Bring what?”

“Things to eat.”

“Oh!” said Pooh happily. “I thought you said Provisions. I’ll go and tell them.” And he stumped off.

The first person he met was Rabbit.

“Hallo, Rabbit,” he said, “is that you?”

“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “and see what happens.”

“I’ve got a message for you.”

“I’ll give it to him.”

“We’re all going on an Expotition with Christopher Robin!”

“What is it when we’re on it?”

“A sort of boat, I think,” said Pooh.

“Oh! that sort.”

“Yes. And we’re going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? Anyhow we’re going to discover it.”

“We are, are we?” said Rabbit.

“Yes. And we’ve got to bring Pro⁠—things to eat with us. In case we want to eat them. Now I’m going down to Piglet’s. Tell Kanga, will you?”

He left Rabbit and hurried down to Piglet’s house. The Piglet was sitting on the ground at the door of his house blowing happily at a dandelion, and wondering whether it would be this year, next year, sometime or never. He had just discovered that it would be never, and was trying to remember what “it” was, and hoping it wasn’t anything nice, when Pooh came up.

“Oh! Piglet,” said Pooh excitedly, “we’re going on an Expotition, all of us, with things to eat. To discover something.”

“To discover what?” said Piglet anxiously.

“Oh! just something.”

“Nothing fierce?”

“Christopher Robin didn’t say anything about fierce. He just said it had an x.”

“It isn’t their necks I mind,” said Piglet earnestly. “It’s their teeth. But if Christopher Robin is coming I don’t mind anything.”

In a little while they were all ready at the top of the Forest, and the Expotition started. First came Christopher Robin and Rabbit, then Piglet and Pooh; then Kanga, with Roo in her pocket, and Owl; then Eeyore; and, at the end, in a long line, all Rabbit’s friends-and-relations.

“I didn’t ask them,” explained Rabbit carelessly. “They just came. They always do. They can march at the end, after Eeyore.”

“What I say,” said Eeyore, “is that it’s unsettling. I didn’t want to come on this Expo⁠—what Pooh said. I only came to oblige. But here I am; and if I am the end of the Expo⁠—what we’re talking about⁠—then let me be the end. But if, every time I want to sit down for a little rest, I have to brush away half a dozen of Rabbit’s smaller friends-and-relations first, then this isn’t an Expo⁠—whatever it is⁠—at all, it’s simply a Confused Noise. That’s what I say.”

“I see what Eeyore means,” said Owl. “If you ask me⁠—”

“I’m not asking anybody,” said Eeyore. “I’m just telling everybody. We can look for the North Pole, or we can play ‘Here we go gathering Nuts and May’ with the end part of an ant’s nest. It’s all the same to me.”

There was a shout from the top of the line.

“Come on!” called Christopher Robin.

“Come on!” called Pooh and Piglet.

“Come on!” called Owl.

“We’re starting,” said Rabbit. “I must go.” And he hurried off to the front of the Expotition with Christopher Robin.

“All right,” said Eeyore. “We’re going. Only Don’t Blame Me.”

So off they all went to discover the Pole. And as they walked, they chattered to each other of this and that, all except Pooh, who was making up a song.

“This is the first verse,” he said to Piglet, when he was ready with it.

“First verse of what?”

“My song.”

“What song?”

“This one.”

“Which one?”

“Well, if you listen, Piglet, you’ll hear it.”

“How do you know I’m not listening?”

Pooh couldn’t answer that one, so he began to sing.

They all went off to discover the Pole,

Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all;

It’s a Thing you Discover, as I’ve been tole

By Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all.

Eeyore, Christopher Robin and Pooh

And Rabbit’s relations all went too⁠—

And where the Pole was none of them knew.⁠ ⁠…

Sing Hey! for Owl and Rabbit and all!

“Hush!” said Christopher Robin turning round to Pooh, “we’re just coming to a Dangerous Place.”

“Hush!” said Pooh turning round quickly to Piglet.

“Hush!” said Piglet to Kanga.

“Hush!” said Kanga to Owl, while Roo said “Hush!” several times to himself very quietly.

“Hush!” said Owl to Eeyore.

“Hush!” said Eeyore in a terrible voice to all Rabbit’s friends-and-relations, and “Hush!” they said hastily to each other all down the line, until it got to the last one of all. And the last and smallest friend-and-relation was so upset to find that the whole Expotition was saying “Hush!” to him, that he buried himself head downwards in a crack in the ground, and stayed there for two days until the danger was over, and then went home in a great hurry, and lived quietly with his Aunt ever-afterwards. His name was Alexander Beetle.

They had come to a stream which twisted and tumbled between high rocky banks, and Christopher Robin saw at once how dangerous it was.

“It’s just the place,” he explained, “for an Ambush.”

“What sort of bush?” whispered Pooh to Piglet. “A gorse-bush?”

“My dear Pooh,” said Owl in his superior way, “don’t you know what an Ambush is?”

“Owl,” said Piglet, looking round at him severely, “Pooh’s whisper was a perfectly private whisper, and there was no need⁠—”

“An Ambush,” said Owl, “is a sort of Surprise.”

“So is a gorse-bush sometimes,” said Pooh.

“An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh,” said Piglet, “is a sort of Surprise.”

“If people jump out at you suddenly, that’s an Ambush,” said Owl.

“It’s an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly,” explained Piglet.

Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself.

“We are not talking about gorse-bushes,” said Owl a little crossly.

“I am,” said Pooh.

They were climbing very cautiously up the stream now, going from rock to rock, and after they had gone a little way they came to a place where the banks widened out at each side, so that on each side of the water there was a level strip of grass on which they could sit down and rest. As soon as he saw this, Christopher Robin called “Halt!” and they all sat down and rested.

“I think,” said Christopher Robin, “that we ought to eat all our Provisions now, so that we shan’t have so much to carry.”

“Eat all our what?” said Pooh.

“All that we’ve brought,” said Piglet, getting to work.

“That’s a good idea,” said Pooh, and he got to work too.

“Have you all got something?” asked Christopher Robin with his mouth full.

“All except me,” said Eeyore. “As Usual.” He looked round at them in his melancholy way. “I suppose none of you are sitting on a thistle by any chance?”

“I believe I am,” said Pooh. “Ow!” He got up, and looked behind him. “Yes, I was. I thought so.”

“Thank you, Pooh. If you’ve quite finished with it.” He moved across to Pooh’s place, and began to eat.

“It don’t do them any Good, you know, sitting on them,” he went on, as he looked up munching. “Takes all the Life out of them. Remember that another time, all of you. A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference.”

As soon as he had finished his lunch Christopher Robin whispered to Rabbit, and Rabbit said “Yes, yes, of course,” and they walked a little way up the stream together.

“I didn’t want the others to hear,” said Christopher Robin.

“Quite so,” said Rabbit, looking important.

“It’s⁠—I wondered⁠—It’s only⁠—Rabbit, I suppose you don’t know, What does the North Pole look like?”

“Well,” said Rabbit, stroking his whiskers. “Now you’re asking me.”

“I did know once, only I’ve sort of forgotten,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“It’s a funny thing,” said Rabbit, “but I’ve sort of forgotten too, although I did know once.”

“I suppose it’s just a pole stuck in the ground?”

“Sure to be a pole,” said Rabbit, “because of calling it a pole, and if it’s a pole, well, I should think it would be sticking in the ground, shouldn’t you, because there’d be nowhere else to stick it.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

“The only thing,” said Rabbit, “is, where is it sticking?”

“That’s what we’re looking for,” said Christopher Robin.

They went back to the others. Piglet was lying on his back, sleeping peacefully. Roo was washing his face and paws in the stream, while Kanga explained to everybody proudly that this was the first time he had ever washed his face himself, and Owl was telling Kanga an Interesting Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopaedia and Rhododendron to which Kanga wasn’t listening.

“I don’t hold with all this washing,” grumbled Eeyore. “This modern Behind-the-ears nonsense. What do you think, Pooh?”

“Well,” said Pooh, “I think⁠—”

But we shall never know what Pooh thought, for there came a sudden squeak from Roo, a splash, and a loud cry of alarm from Kanga.

“So much for washing,” said Eeyore.

“Roo’s fallen in!” cried Rabbit, and he and Christopher Robin came rushing down to the rescue.

“Look at me swimming!” squeaked Roo from the middle of his pool, and was hurried down a waterfall into the next pool.

“Are you all right, Roo dear?” called Kanga anxiously.

“Yes!” said Roo. “Look at me sw⁠—” and down he went over the next waterfall into another pool.

Everybody was doing something to help. Piglet, wide awake suddenly, was jumping up and down and making “Oo, I say” noises; Owl was explaining that in a case of Sudden and Temporary Immersion the Important Thing was to keep the Head Above Water; Kanga was jumping along the bank, saying “Are you sure you’re all right, Roo dear?” to which Roo, from whatever pool he was in at the moment, was answering “Look at me swimming!” Eeyore had turned round and hung his tail over the first pool into which Roo fell, and with his back to the accident was grumbling quietly to himself, and saying, “All this washing; but catch on to my tail, little Roo, and you’ll be all right”; and, Christopher Robin and Rabbit came hurrying past Eeyore, and were calling out to the others in front of them.

“All right, Roo, I’m coming,” called Christopher Robin.

“Get something across the stream lower down, some of you fellows,” called Rabbit.

But Pooh was getting something. Two pools below Roo he was standing with a long pole in his paws, and Kanga came up and took one end of it, and between them they held it across the lower part of the pool; and Roo, still bubbling proudly, “Look at me swimming,” drifted up against it, and climbed out.

“Did you see me swimming?” squeaked Roo excitedly, while Kanga scolded him and rubbed him down. “Pooh, did you see me swimming? That’s called swimming, what I was doing. Rabbit, did you see what I was doing? Swimming. Hallo, Piglet! I say, Piglet! What do you think I was doing! Swimming! Christopher Robin, did you see me⁠—”

But Christopher Robin wasn’t listening. He was looking at Pooh.

“Pooh,” he said, “where did you find that pole?”

Pooh looked at the pole in his hands.

“I just found it,” he said. “I thought it ought to be useful. I just picked it up.”

“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin solemnly, “the Expedition is over. You have found the North Pole!”

“Oh!” said Pooh.

Eeyore was sitting with his tail in the water when they all got back to him.

“Tell Roo to be quick, somebody,” he said. “My tail’s getting cold. I don’t want to mention it, but I just mention it. I don’t want to complain but there it is. My tail’s cold.”

“Here I am!” squeaked Roo.

“Oh, there you are.”

“Did you see me swimming?”

Eeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side.

“As I expected,” he said. “Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That’s what it’s done. Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it’s all right.”

“Poor old Eeyore. I’ll dry it for you,” said Christopher Robin, and he took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up.

“Thank you, Christopher Robin. You’re the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don’t think⁠—that’s what the matter with some of these others. They’ve no imagination. A tail isn’t a tail to them, it’s just a Little Bit Extra at the back.”

“Never mind, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. “Is that better?”

“It’s feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I mean.”

“Hullo, Eeyore,” said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole.

“Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day or two.”

“Use what?” said Pooh.

“What we are talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking about anything,” said Pooh, looking puzzled.

“My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That wasn’t me,” he said. He thought for a little and then suggested...

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👉The story begins at 01:50 and the tiny lessons begin at 30:08

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Seven of Winnie-the-Pooh.  Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). In this story, we meet not one but TWO new characters, Kanga and her son Roo. And it’s interesting, the other animals are…actually kind of mean to them. How will it all work out? Let’s listen. 

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter VII

In Which Kanga and Baby Roo Come to the Forest, and Piglet Has a Bath

Nobody seemed to know where they came from, but there they were in the Forest: Kanga and Baby Roo. When Pooh asked Christopher Robin, “How did they come here?” Christopher Robin said, “In the Usual Way, if you know what I mean, Pooh,” and Pooh, who didn’t, said “Oh!” Then he nodded his head twice and said, “In the Usual Way. Ah!” Then he went to call upon his friend Piglet to see what he thought about it. And at Piglet’s house he found Rabbit. So they all talked about it together.

“What I don’t like about it is this,” said Rabbit. “Here are we⁠—you, Pooh, and you, Piglet, and Me⁠—and suddenly⁠—”

“And Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“And Eeyore⁠—and then suddenly⁠—”

“And Owl,” said Pooh.

“And Owl⁠—and then all of a sudden⁠—”

“Oh, and Eeyore,” said Pooh. “I was forgetting him.”

“Here⁠—we⁠—are,” said Rabbit very slowly and carefully, “all⁠—of⁠—us, and then, suddenly, we wake up one morning and, what do we find? We find a Strange Animal among us. An animal of whom we have never even heard before! An animal who carries her family about with her in her pocket! Suppose I carried my family about with me in my pocket, how many pockets should I want?”

“Sixteen,” said Piglet.

“Seventeen, isn’t it?” said Rabbit. “And one more for a handkerchief⁠—that’s eighteen. Eighteen pockets in one suit! I haven’t time.”

There was a long and thoughtful silence⁠ ⁠… and then Pooh, who had been frowning very hard for some minutes, said: “I make it fifteen.”

“What?” said Rabbit.

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen what?”

“Your family.”

“What about them?”

Pooh rubbed his nose and said that he thought Rabbit had been talking about his family.

“Did I?” said Rabbit carelessly.

“Yes, you said⁠—”

“Never mind, Pooh,” said Piglet impatiently.

“The question is, What are we to do about Kanga?”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

“The best way,” said Rabbit, “would be this. The best way would be to steal Baby Roo and hide him, and then when Kanga says, ‘Where’s Baby Roo?’ we say, ‘Aha!’ ”

“Aha!” said Pooh, practising. “Aha! Aha!⁠ ⁠… Of course,” he went on, “we could say ‘Aha!’ even if we hadn’t stolen Baby Roo.”

“Pooh,” said Rabbit kindly, “you haven’t any brain.”

“I know,” said Pooh humbly.

“We say ‘Aha!’ so that Kanga knows that we know where Baby Roo is. ‘Aha!’ means ‘We’ll tell you where Baby Roo is, if you promise to go away from the Forest and never come back.’ Now don’t talk while I think.”

Pooh went into a corner and tried saying “Aha!” in that sort of voice. Sometimes it seemed to him that it did mean what Rabbit said, and sometimes it seemed to him that it didn’t. “I suppose it’s just practice,” he thought. “I wonder if Kanga will have to practise too so as to understand it.”

“There’s just one thing,” said Piglet, fidgeting a bit. “I was talking to Christopher Robin, and he said that a Kanga was Generally Regarded as One of the Fiercer Animals. I am not frightened of Fierce Animals in the ordinary way, but it is well known that, if One of the Fiercer Animals is Deprived of Its Young, it becomes as fierce as Two of the Fiercer Animals. In which case ‘Aha!’ is perhaps a foolish thing to say.”

“Piglet,” said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, “you haven’t any pluck.”

“It is hard to be brave,” said Piglet, sniffing slightly, “when you’re only a Very Small Animal.”

Rabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said:

“It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.”

Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful that he forgot to be frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to begin being useful at once.

“What about me?” said Pooh sadly. “I suppose I shan’t be useful?”

“Never mind, Pooh,” said Piglet comfortingly. “Another time perhaps.”

“Without Pooh,” said Rabbit solemnly as he sharpened his pencil, “the adventure would be impossible.”

“Oh!” said Piglet, and tried not to look disappointed. But Pooh went into a corner of the room and said proudly to himself, “Impossible without Me! That sort of Bear.”

“Now listen all of you,” said Rabbit when he had finished writing, and Pooh and Piglet sat listening very eagerly with their mouths open. This was what Rabbit read out:

Plan to Capture Baby Roo

General Remarks. Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me.

More General Remarks. Kanga never takes her eye off Baby Roo, except when he’s safely buttoned up in her pocket.

Therefore. If we are to capture Baby Roo, we must get a Long Start, because Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me. (See 1.)

A Thought. If Roo had jumped out of Kanga’s pocket and Piglet had jumped in, Kanga wouldn’t know the difference, because Piglet is a Very Small Animal.

Like Roo.

But Kanga would have to be looking the other way first, so as not to see Piglet jumping in.

See 2.

Another Thought. But if Pooh was talking to her very excitedly, she might look the other way for a moment.

And then I could run away with Roo.

Quickly.

And Kanga wouldn’t discover the difference until Afterwards.

Well, Rabbit read this out proudly, and for a little while after he had read it nobody said anything. And then Piglet, who had been opening and shutting his mouth without making any noise, managed to say very huskily:

“And⁠—Afterwards?”

“How do you mean?”

“When Kanga does Discover the Difference?”

“Then we all say ‘Aha!’ ”

“All three of us?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

“Why, what’s the trouble, Piglet?”

“Nothing,” said Piglet, “as long as we all three say it. As long as we all three say it,” said Piglet, “I don’t mind,” he said, “but I shouldn’t care to say ‘Aha!’ by myself. It wouldn’t sound nearly so well. By the way,” he said, “you are quite sure about what you said about the winter months?”

“The winter months?”

“Yes, only being Fierce in the Winter Months.”

“Oh, yes, yes, that’s all right. Well, Pooh? You see what you have to do?”

“No,” said Pooh Bear. “Not yet,” he said. “What do I do?”

“Well, you just have to talk very hard to Kanga so as she doesn’t notice anything.”

“Oh! What about?”

“Anything you like.”

“You mean like telling her a little bit of poetry or something?”

“That’s it,” said Rabbit. “Splendid. Now come along.”

So they all went out to look for Kanga.

Kanga and Roo were spending a quiet afternoon in a sandy part of the Forest. Baby Roo was practising very small jumps in the sand, and falling down mouse-holes and climbing out of them, and Kanga was fidgeting about and saying “Just one more jump, dear, and then we must go home.” And at that moment who should come stumping up the hill but Pooh.

“Good afternoon, Kanga.”

“Good afternoon, Pooh.”

“Look at me jumping,” squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole.

“Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!”

“We were just going home,” said Kanga. “Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good afternoon, Piglet.”

Rabbit and Piglet, who had now come up from the other side of the hill, said “Good afternoon,” and “Hallo, Roo,” and Roo asked them to look at him jumping, so they stayed and looked.

And Kanga looked too.⁠ ⁠…

“Oh, Kanga,” said Pooh, after Rabbit had winked at him twice, “I don’t know if you are interested in Poetry at all?”

“Hardly at all,” said Kanga.

“Oh!” said Pooh.

“Roo, dear, just one more jump and then we must go home.”

There was a short silence while Roo fell down another mouse-hole.

“Go on,” said Rabbit in a loud whisper behind his paw.

“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh, “I made up a little piece as I was coming along. It went like this. Er⁠—now let me see⁠—”

“Fancy!” said Kanga. “Now Roo, dear⁠—”

“You’ll like this piece of poetry,” said Rabbit.

“You’ll love it,” said Piglet.

“You must listen very carefully,” said Rabbit.

“So as not to miss any of it,” said Piglet.

“Oh, yes,” said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo.

“How did it go, Pooh?” said Rabbit.

Pooh gave a little cough and began.

Lines Written by a Bear of Very Little Brain

On Monday, when the sun is hot

I wonder to myself a lot:

“Now is it true, or is it not,

“That what is which and which is what?”

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,

The feeling on me grows and grows

That hardly anybody knows

If those are these or these are those.

On Wednesday, when the sky is blue,

And I have nothing else to do,

I sometimes wonder if it’s true

That who is what and what is who.

On Thursday, when it starts to freeze

And hoarfrost twinkles on the trees,

How very readily one sees

That these are whose⁠—but whose are these?

On Friday⁠—

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday. “Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really must be going.”

Rabbit gave Pooh a hurrying-up sort of nudge.

“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh quickly, “have you ever noticed that tree right over there?”

“Where?” said Kanga. “Now, Roo⁠—”

“Right over there,” said Pooh, pointing behind Kanga’s back.

“No,” said Kanga. “Now jump in, Roo, dear, and we’ll go home.”

“You ought to look at that tree right over there,” said Rabbit. “Shall I lift you in, Roo?” And he picked up Roo in his paws.

“I can see a bird in it from here,” said Pooh. “Or is it a fish?”

“You ought to see that bird from here,” said Rabbit. “Unless it’s a fish.”

“It isn’t a fish, it’s a bird,” said Piglet.

“So it is,” said Rabbit.

“Is it a starling or a blackbird?” said Pooh.

“That’s the whole question,” said Rabbit. “Is it a blackbird or a starling?”

And then at last Kanga did turn her head to look. And the moment that her head was turned, Rabbit said in a loud voice “In you go, Roo!” and in jumped Piglet into Kanga’s pocket, and off scampered Rabbit, with Roo in his paws, as fast as he could.

“Why, where’s Rabbit?” said Kanga, turning round again. “Are you all right, Roo, dear?”

Piglet made a squeaky Roo-noise from the bottom of Kanga’s pocket.

“Rabbit had to go away,” said Pooh. “I think he thought of something he had to go and see about suddenly.”

“And Piglet?”

“I think Piglet thought of something at the same time. Suddenly.”

“Well, we must be getting home,” said Kanga. “Goodbye, Pooh.” And in three large jumps she was gone.

Pooh looked after her as she went.

“I wish I could jump like that,” he thought. “Some can and some can’t. That’s how it is.”

But there were moments when Piglet wished that Kanga couldn’t. Often, when he had had a long walk home through the Forest, he had wished that he were a bird; but now he thought jerkily to himself at the bottom of Kanga’s pocket,

 this take

“If  is  shall  really  to

 flying I  never it.”

And as he went up in the air he said, “Ooooooo!” and as he came down he said, “Ow!” And he was saying, “Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow” all the way to Kanga’s house.

Of course as soon as Kanga unbuttoned her pocket, she saw what had happened. Just for a moment, she thought she was frightened, and then she knew she wasn’t; for she felt quite sure that Christopher Robin would never let any harm happen to Roo. So she said to herself, “If they are having a joke with me, I will have a joke with them.”

“Now then, Roo, dear,” she said, as she took Piglet out of her pocket. “Bedtime.”

“Aha!” said Piglet, as well as he could after his Terrifying Journey. But it wasn’t a very good “Aha!” and Kanga didn’t seem to understand what it meant.

“Bath first,” said Kanga in a cheerful voice.

“Aha!” said Piglet again, looking round anxiously for the others. But the others weren’t there. Rabbit was playing with Baby Roo in his own house, and feeling more fond of him every minute, and Pooh, who had decided to be a Kanga, was still at the sandy place on the top of the Forest, practising jumps.

“I am not at all sure,” said Kanga in a thoughtful voice, “that it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a cold bath this evening. Would you like that, Roo, dear?”

Piglet, who had never been really fond of baths, shuddered a long indignant shudder, and said in as brave a voice as he could:

“Kanga, I see that the time has come to spleak painly.”

“Funny little Roo,” said Kanga, as she got the bath-water ready.

“I am not Roo,” said Piglet loudly. “I am Piglet!”

“Yes, dear, yes,” said Kanga soothingly. “And imitating Piglet’s voice too! So clever of him,” she went on, as she took a large bar of yellow soap out of the cupboard. “What will he be doing next?”

“Can’t you see?” shouted Piglet. “Haven’t you got eyes? Look at me!”

“I am looking, Roo, dear,” said Kanga rather severely. “And you know what I told you yesterday about making faces. If you go on making faces like Piglet’s, you will grow up to look like Piglet⁠—and then think how sorry you will be. Now then, into the bath, and don’t let me have to speak to you about it again.”

Before he knew where he was, Piglet was in the bath, and Kanga was scrubbing him firmly with a large lathery flannel.

“Ow!” cried Piglet. “Let me out! I’m Piglet!”

“Don’t open the mouth, dear, or the soap goes in,” said Kanga. “There! What did I tell you?”

“You⁠—you⁠—you did it on purpose,” spluttered Piglet, as soon as he could speak again⁠ ⁠… and then accidentally had another mouthful of lathery flannel.

“That’s right, dear, don’t say anything,” said Kanga, and in another minute Piglet was out of the bath, and being rubbed dry with a towel.

“Now,” said Kanga, “there’s your medicine, and then bed.”

“W-w-what medicine?” said Piglet.

“To make you grow big and strong, dear, You don’t want to grow up small and weak like Piglet, do you? Well, then!”

At that moment there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Kanga, and in came Christopher Robin.

“Christopher Robin, Christopher Robin!” cried Piglet. “Tell Kanga who I am! She keeps saying I’m Roo. I’m not Roo, am I?”

Christopher Robin looked at him very carefully, and shook his head.

“You can’t be Roo,” he said, “because I’ve just seen Roo playing in Rabbit’s house.”

“Well!” said Kanga. “Fancy that! Fancy my making a mistake like that.”

“There you are!” said Piglet. “I told you so. I’m Piglet.”

Christopher Robin shook his head again.

“Oh, you’re not Piglet,” he said. “I know Piglet well, and he’s quite a different colour.”

Piglet began to say that this was because he had just had a bath, and then he thought that perhaps he wouldn’t say that, and as he opened his mouth to say something else, Kanga slipped the medicine spoon in, and then patted him on the back and told him that it was really quite a nice taste when you got used to it.

“I knew it wasn’t Piglet,” said Kanga. “I wonder who it can be.”

“Perhaps it’s some relation of Pooh’s,” said Christopher Robin. “What about a nephew or an uncle or something?”

Kanga agreed that this was probably what it was, and said that they would have to call it by some name.

“I shall call it Pootel,” said Christopher Robin. “Henry Pootel for short.”

And just when it was decided, Henry Pootel wriggled out of Kanga’s arms and jumped to the ground. To his great joy Christopher Robin had left the door open. Never had Henry Pootel Piglet run so fast as he ran then, and he didn’t stop running until he had got quite close to his house. But when he was a hundred yards away he stopped running, and rolled the rest of the way home, so as to get his own nice...

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👉The story begins at 02:25 and the tiny lessons begin at 32:35

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Some illustrations:

Eeyore

Trying to reach the knocker

Can Owl spell?

BANG!

A damp rag

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

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Copyright 2023 Edward Cooper Howland

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TRANSCRIPT:

  ALE S01E06

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Six of Winnie-the-Pooh.  Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). Today’s story is a long one. It has a lot of dialogue, and lots of voice acting by, well, me. Don’t worry if the conversations are a little confusing. They are supposed to be. Pooh and Eeyore are just as confused by the conversations as you and I are. So, like always, relax and enjoy. 

Chapter VI

In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents

Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water.

“Pathetic,” he said. “That’s what it is. Pathetic.”

He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.

“As I thought,” he said. “No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that’s what it is.”

There was a crackling noise in the bracken behind him, and out came Pooh.

“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

“Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose.

“Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?”

“Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.”

Pooh sat down on a large stone, and tried to think this out. It sounded to him like a riddle, and he was never much good at riddles, being a Bear of Very Little Brain. So he sang “Cottleston Pie” instead:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

That was the first verse. When he had finished it, Eeyore didn’t actually say that he didn’t like it, so Pooh very kindly sang the second verse to him:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

Eeyore still said nothing at all, so Pooh hummed the third verse quietly to himself:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

Why does a chicken, I don’t know why.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

“That’s right,” said Eeyore. “Sing. Umty-tiddly, umty-too. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am,” said Pooh.

“Some can,” said Eeyore.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Is anything the matter?”

“You seem so sad, Eeyore.”

“Sad? Why should I be sad? It’s my birthday. The happiest day of the year.”

“Your birthday?” said Pooh in great surprise.

“Of course it is. Can’t you see? Look at all the presents I have had.” He waved a foot from side to side. “Look at the birthday cake. Candles and pink sugar.”

Pooh looked⁠—first to the right and then to the left.

“Presents?” said Pooh. “Birthday cake?” said Pooh. “Where?”

“Can’t you see them?”

“No,” said Pooh.

“Neither can I,” said Eeyore. “Joke,” he explained. “Ha ha!”

Pooh scratched his head, being a little puzzled by all this.

“But is it really your birthday?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Oh! Well, Many happy returns of the day, Eeyore.”

“And many happy returns to you, Pooh Bear.”

“But it isn’t my birthday.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“But you said ‘Many happy returns’⁠—”

“Well, why not? You don’t always want to be miserable on my birthday, do you?”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

“It’s bad enough,” said Eeyore, almost breaking down, “being miserable myself, what with no presents and no cake and no candles, and no proper notice taken of me at all, but if everybody else is going to be miserable too⁠—”

This was too much for Pooh. “Stay there!” he called to Eeyore, as he turned and hurried back home as quick as he could; for he felt that he must get poor Eeyore a present of some sort at once, and he could always think of a proper one afterwards.

Outside his house he found Piglet, jumping up and down trying to reach the knocker.

“Hallo, Piglet,” he said.

“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I was trying to reach the knocker,” said Piglet. “I just came round⁠—”

“Let me do it for you,” said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked at the door. “I have just seen Eeyore,” he began, “and poor Eeyore is in a Very Sad Condition, because it’s his birthday, and nobody has taken any notice of it, and he’s very Gloomy⁠—you know what Eeyore is⁠—and there he was, and⁠—What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.” And he knocked again.

“But Pooh,” said Piglet, “it’s your own house!”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “So it is,” he said. “Well, let’s go in.”

So in they went. The first thing Pooh did was to go to the cupboard to see if he had quite a small jar of honey left; and he had, so he took it down.

“I’m giving this to Eeyore,” he explained, “as a present. What are you going to give?”

“Couldn’t I give it too?” said Piglet. “From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would not be a good plan.”

“All right, then, I’ll give him a balloon. I’ve got one left from my party. I’ll go and get it now, shall I?”

“That, Piglet, is a very good idea. It is just what Eeyore wants to cheer him up. Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.”

So off Piglet trotted; and in the other direction went Pooh, with his jar of honey.

It was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. He hadn’t gone more than halfway when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. It began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. It was just as if somebody inside him were saying, “Now then, Pooh, time for a little something.”

“Dear, dear,” said Pooh, “I didn’t know it was as late as that.” So he sat down and took the top off his jar of honey. “Lucky I brought this with me,” he thought. “Many a bear going out on a warm day like this would never have thought of bringing a little something with him.” And he began to eat.

“Now let me see,” he thought, as he took his last lick of the inside of the jar, “where was I going? Ah, yes, Eeyore.” He got up slowly.

And then, suddenly, he remembered. He had eaten Eeyore’s birthday present!

“Bother!” said Pooh. “What shall I do? I must give him something.”

For a little while he couldn’t think of anything. Then he thought: “Well, it’s a very nice pot, even if there’s no honey in it, and if I washed it clean, and got somebody to write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it, Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful.” So, as he was just passing the Hundred Acre Wood, he went inside to call on Owl, who lived there.

“Good morning, Owl,” he said.

“Good morning, Pooh,” said Owl.

“Many happy returns of Eeyore’s birthday,” said Pooh.

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“What are you giving him, Owl?”

“What are you giving him, Pooh?”

“I’m giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In, and I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“Is this it?” said Owl, taking it out of Pooh’s paw.

“Yes, and I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“Somebody has been keeping honey in it,” said Owl.

“You can keep anything in it,” said Pooh earnestly. “It’s Very Useful like that. And I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“You ought to write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it.”

“That was what I wanted to ask you,” said Pooh. “Because my spelling is Wobbly. It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. Would you write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it for me?”

“It’s a nice pot,” said Owl, looking at it all round. “Couldn’t I give it too? From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would not be a good plan. Now I’ll just wash it first, and then you can write on it.”

Well, he washed the pot out, and dried it, while Owl licked the end of his pencil, and wondered how to spell “birthday.”

“Can you read, Pooh?” he asked a little anxiously. “There’s a notice about knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin wrote. Could you read it?”

“Christopher Robin told me what it said, and then I could.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what this says, and then you’ll be able to.”

So Owl wrote⁠ ⁠… and this is what he wrote:

hipy papy bthuthdth thuthda

bthuthdy.

Pooh looked on admiringly.

“I’m just saying ‘A Happy Birthday,’ ” said Owl carelessly.

“It’s a nice long one,” said Pooh, very much impressed by it.

“Well, actually, of course, I’m saying ‘A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh.’ Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a long thing like that.”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

While all this was happening, Piglet had gone back to his own house to get Eeyore’s balloon. He held it very tightly against himself, so that it shouldn’t blow away, and he ran as fast as he could so as to get to Eeyore before Pooh did; for he thought that he would like to be the first one to give a present, just as if he had thought of it without being told by anybody. And running along, and thinking how pleased Eeyore would be, he didn’t look where he was going⁠ ⁠… and suddenly he put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on his face.

Bang!!!???***!!!

Piglet lay there, wondering what had happened. At first he thought that the whole world had blown up; and then he thought that perhaps only the Forest part of it had; and then he thought that perhaps only he had, and he was now alone in the moon or somewhere, and would never see Christopher Robin or Pooh or Eeyore again. And then he thought, “Well, even if I’m in the moon, I needn’t be face downwards all the time,” so he got cautiously up and looked about him.

He was still in the Forest!

“Well, that’s funny,” he thought. “I wonder what that bang was. I couldn’t have made such a noise just falling down. And where’s my balloon? And what’s that small piece of damp rag doing?”

It was the balloon!

“Oh, dear!” said Piglet. “Oh, dear, oh, dearie, dearie, dear! Well, it’s too late now. I can’t go back, and I haven’t another balloon, and perhaps Eeyore doesn’t like balloons so very much.”

So he trotted on, rather sadly now, and down he came to the side of the stream where Eeyore was, and called out to him.

“Good morning, Eeyore,” shouted Piglet.

“Good morning, Little Piglet,” said Eeyore. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Not that it matters,” he said.

“Many happy returns of the day,” said Piglet, having now got closer.

Eeyore stopped looking at himself in the stream, and turned to stare at Piglet.

“Just say that again,” he said.

“Many hap⁠—”

“Wait a moment.”

Balancing on three legs, he began to bring his fourth leg very cautiously up to his ear. “I did this yesterday,” he explained, as he fell down for the third time. “It’s quite easy. It’s so as I can hear better.⁠ ⁠… There, that’s done it! Now then, what were you saying?” He pushed his ear forward with his hoof.

“Many happy returns of the day,” said Piglet again.

“Meaning me?”

“Of course, Eeyore.”

“My birthday?”

“Yes.”

“Me having a real birthday?”

“Yes, Eeyore, and I’ve brought you a present.”

Eeyore took down his right hoof from his right ear, turned round, and with great difficulty put up his left hoof.

“I must have that in the other ear,” he said. “Now then.”

“A present,” said Piglet very loudly.

“Meaning me again?”

“Yes.”

“My birthday still?”

“Of course, Eeyore.”

“Me going on having a real birthday?”

“Yes, Eeyore, and I brought you a balloon.”

“Balloon?” said Eeyore. “You did say balloon? One of those big coloured things you blow up? Gaiety, song-and-dance, here we are and there we are?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid⁠—I’m very sorry, Eeyore⁠—but when I was running along to bring it you, I fell down.”

“Dear, dear, how unlucky! You ran too fast, I expect. You didn’t hurt yourself, Little Piglet?”

“No, but I⁠—I⁠—oh, Eeyore, I burst the balloon!”

There was a very long silence.

“My balloon?” said Eeyore at last.

Piglet nodded.

“My birthday balloon?”

“Yes, Eeyore,” said Piglet sniffing a little. “Here it is. With⁠—with many happy returns of the day.” And he gave Eeyore the small piece of damp rag.

“Is this it?” said Eeyore, a little surprised.

Piglet nodded.

“My present?”

Piglet nodded again.

“The balloon?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Piglet,” said Eeyore. “You don’t mind my asking,” he went on, “but what colour was this balloon when it⁠—when it was a balloon?”

“Red.”

“I just wondered.⁠ ⁠… Red,” he murmured to himself. “My favourite colour.⁠ ⁠… How big was it?”

“About as big as me.”

“I just wondered.⁠ ⁠… About as big as Piglet,” he said to himself sadly. “My favourite size. Well, well.”

Piglet felt very miserable, and didn’t know what to say. He was still opening his mouth to begin something, and then deciding that it wasn’t any good saying that, when he heard a shout from the other side of the river, and there was Pooh.

“Many happy returns of the day,” called out Pooh, forgetting that he had said it already.

“Thank you, Pooh, I’m having them,” said Eeyore gloomily.

“I’ve brought you a little present,” said Pooh excitedly.

“I’ve had it,” said Eeyore.

Pooh had now splashed across the stream to Eeyore, and Piglet was sitting a little way off, his head in his paws, snuffling to himself.

“It’s a Useful Pot,” said Pooh. “Here it is. And it’s got ‘A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh’ written on it. That’s what all that writing is. And it’s for putting things in. There!”

When Eeyore saw the pot, he became quite excited.

“Why!” he said. “I believe my Balloon will just go into that Pot!”

“Oh, no, Eeyore,” said Pooh. “Balloons are much too big to go into Pots. What you do with a balloon is, you hold the ballon⁠—”

“Not mine,” said Eeyore proudly. “Look, Piglet!” And as Piglet looked sorrowfully round, Eeyore picked the balloon up with his teeth, and placed it carefully in the pot; picked it out and put it on the ground; and then picked it up again and put it carefully back.

“So it does!” said Pooh. “It goes in!”

“So it does!” said Piglet. “And it comes out!”

“Doesn’t it?” said Eeyore. “It goes in and out like anything.”

“I’m very glad,” said Pooh happily, “that I thought of giving you a Useful Pot to put things in.”

“I’m very glad,” said Piglet happily, “that I thought of giving you Something to put in a Useful Pot.”

But Eeyore wasn’t listening. He was taking the balloon out, and putting it back again, as happy as could be.⁠ ⁠…

“And didn’t I give him anything?” asked Christopher Robin sadly.

“Of course you did,” I said. “You gave him⁠—don’t you remember⁠—a little⁠—a little⁠—”

“I gave him a box of paints to paint things with.”

“That was it.”

“Why didn’t I give it to him in the morning?”

“You were so busy getting his party ready for him. He had a cake with icing on the top, and three candles, and his name in pink sugar, and⁠—”

“Yes, I remember,” said Christopher...

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons. 

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy. 

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Five of Winnie-the-Pooh. The name of this chapter is, “In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump.   Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). There is som,e great silly action in this story, especially when Piglet does indeed meet…..the Heffalump. What’s a Heffalump, you ask? Keep listening to find out!

One day, when Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet were all talking together, Christopher Robin finished the mouthful he was eating and said carelessly: “I saw a Heffalump today, Piglet.”

“What was it doing?” asked Piglet.

“Just lumping along,” said Christopher Robin. “I don’t think it saw me.”

“I saw one once,” said Piglet. “At least, I think I did,” he said. “Only perhaps it wasn’t.”

“So did I,” said Pooh, wondering what a Heffalump was like.

“You don’t often see them,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“Not now,” said Piglet.

“Not at this time of year,” said Pooh.

Then they all talked about something else, until it was time for Pooh and Piglet to go home together. At first as they stumped along the path which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn’t say much to each other; but when they came to the stream and had helped each other across the stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the heather, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and Piglet said, “If you see what I mean, Pooh,” and Pooh said, “It’s just what I think myself, Piglet,” and Piglet said, “But, on the other hand, Pooh, we must remember,” and Pooh said, “Quite true, Piglet, although I had forgotten it for the moment.” And then, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice:

“Piglet, I have decided something.”

“What have you decided, Pooh?”

“I have decided to catch a Heffalump.”

Pooh nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for Piglet to say “How?” or “Pooh, you couldn’t!” or something helpful of that sort, but Piglet said nothing. The fact was Piglet was wishing that he had thought about it first.

“I shall do it,” said Pooh, after waiting a little longer, “by means of a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, Piglet.”

“Pooh,” said Piglet, feeling quite happy again now, “I will.” And then he said, “How shall we do it?” and Pooh said, “That’s just it. How?” And then they sat down together to think it out.

Pooh’s first idea was that they should dig a Very Deep Pit, and then the Heffalump would come along and fall into the Pit, and⁠—

“Why?” said Piglet.

“Why what?” said Pooh.

“Why would he fall in?”

Pooh rubbed his nose with his paw, and said that the Heffalump might be walking along, humming a little song, and looking up at the sky, wondering if it would rain, and so he wouldn’t see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down, when it would be too late.

Piglet said that this was a very good Trap, but supposing it were raining already?

Pooh rubbed his nose again, and said that he hadn’t thought of that. And then he brightened up, and said that, if it were raining already, the Heffalump would be looking at the sky wondering if it would clear up, and so he wouldn’t see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down.⁠ ⁠… When it would be too late.

Piglet said that, now that this point had been explained, he thought it was a Cunning Trap.

Pooh was very proud when he heard this, and he felt that the Heffalump was as good as caught already, but there was just one other thing which had to be thought about, and it was this. Where should they dig the Very Deep Pit?

Piglet said that the best place would be somewhere where a Heffalump was, just before he fell into it, only about a foot farther on.

“But then he would see us digging it,” said Pooh.

“Not if he was looking at the sky.”

“He would Suspect,” said Pooh, “if he happened to look down.” He thought for a long time and then added sadly, “It isn’t as easy as I thought. I suppose that’s why Heffalumps hardly ever get caught.”

“That must be it,” said Piglet.

They sighed and got up; and when they had taken a few gorse prickles out of themselves they sat down again; and all the time Pooh was saying to himself, “If only I could think of something!” For he felt sure that a Very Clever Brain could catch a Heffalump if only he knew the right way to go about it.

“Suppose,” he said to Piglet, “you wanted to catch me, how would you do it?”

“Well,” said Piglet, “I should do it like this. I should make a Trap, and I should put a Jar of Honey in the Trap, and you would smell it, and you would go in after it, and⁠—”

“And I would go in after it,” said Pooh excitedly, “only very carefully so as not to hurt myself, and I would get to the Jar of Honey, and I should lick round the edges first of all, pretending that there wasn’t any more, you know, and then I should walk away and think about it a little, and then I should come back and start licking in the middle of the jar, and then⁠—”

“Yes, well never mind about that. There you would be, and there I should catch you. Now the first thing to think of is, What do Heffalumps like? I should think acorns, shouldn’t you? We’ll get a lot of⁠—I say, wake up, Pooh!”

Pooh, who had gone into a happy dream, woke up with a start, and said that Honey was a much more trappy thing than Haycorns. Piglet didn’t think so; and they were just going to argue about it, when Piglet remembered that, if they put acorns in the Trap, he would have to find the acorns, but if they put honey, then Pooh would have to give up some of his own honey, so he said, “All right, honey then,” just as Pooh remembered it too, and was going to say, “All right, haycorns.”

“Honey,” said Piglet to himself in a thoughtful way, as if it were now settled. “I’ll dig the pit, while you go and get the honey.”

“Very well,” said Pooh, and he stumped off.

As soon as he got home, he went to the larder; and he stood on a chair, and took down a very large jar of honey from the top shelf. It had hunny written on it, but, just to make sure, he took off the paper cover and looked at it, and it looked just like honey. “But you never can tell,” said Pooh. “I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just this colour.” So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. “Yes,” he said, “it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course,” he said, “somebody put cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a little further⁠ ⁠… just in case⁠ ⁠… in case Heffalumps don’t like cheese⁠ ⁠… same as me.⁠ ⁠… Ah!” And he gave a deep sigh. “I was right. It is honey, right the way down.”

Having made certain of this, he took the jar back to Piglet, and Piglet looked up from the bottom of his Very Deep Pit, and said, “Got it?” and Pooh said, “Yes, but it isn’t quite a full jar,” and he threw it down to Piglet, and Piglet said, “No, it isn’t! Is that all you’ve got left?” and Pooh said “Yes.” Because it was. So Piglet put the jar at the bottom of the Pit, and climbed out, and they went off home together.

“Well, good night, Pooh,” said Piglet, when they had got to Pooh’s house. “And we meet at six o’clock tomorrow morning by the Pine Trees, and see how many Heffalumps we’ve got in our Trap.”

“Six o’clock, Piglet. And have you got any string?”

“No. Why do you want string?”

“To lead them home with.”

“Oh!⁠ ⁠… I think Heffalumps come if you whistle.”

“Some do and some don’t. You never can tell with Heffalumps. Well, good night!”

“Good night!”

And off Piglet trotted to his house Trespassers W, while Pooh made his preparations for bed.

Some hours later, just as the night was beginning to steal away, Pooh woke up suddenly with a sinking feeling. He had had that sinking feeling before, and he knew what it meant. He was hungry. So he went to the larder, and he stood on a chair and reached up to the top shelf, and found⁠—nothing.

“That’s funny,” he thought. “I know I had a jar of honey there. A full jar, full of honey right up to the top, and it had hunny written on it, so that I should know it was honey. That’s very funny.” And then he began to wander up and down, wondering where it was and murmuring a murmur to himself. Like this:

It’s very, very funny,

’Cos I know I had some honey;

’Cos it had a label on,

Saying hunny.

A goloptious full-up pot too,

And I don’t know where it’s got to,

No, I don’t know where it’s gone⁠—

Well, it’s funny.

He had murmured this to himself three times in a singing sort of way, when suddenly he remembered. He had put it into the Cunning Trap to catch the Heffalump.

“Bother!” said Pooh. “It all comes of trying to be kind to Heffalumps.” And he got back into bed.

But he couldn’t sleep. The more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn’t. He tried Counting Sheep, which is sometimes a good way of getting to sleep, and, as that was no good, he tried counting Heffalumps. And that was worse. Because every Heffalump that he counted was making straight for a pot of Pooh’s honey, and eating it all. For some minutes he lay there miserably, but when the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump was licking its jaws, and saying to itself, “Very good honey this, I don’t know when I’ve tasted better,” Pooh could bear it no longer. He jumped out of bed, he ran out of the house, and he ran straight to the Six Pine Trees.

The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and Pooh’s jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready for it.

“Bother!” said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. “A Heffalump has been eating it!” And then he thought a little and said, “Oh, no, I did. I forgot.”

Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to lick.⁠ ⁠…

By and by Piglet woke up. As soon as he woke he said to himself, “Oh!” Then he said bravely, “Yes,” and then, still more bravely, “Quite so.” But he didn’t feel very brave, for the word which was really jiggeting about in his brain was “Heffalumps.”

What was a Heffalump like?

Was it Fierce?

Did it come when you whistled? And how did it come?

Was it Fond of Pigs at all?

If it was Fond of Pigs, did it make any difference what sort of Pig?

Supposing it was Fierce with Pigs, would it make any difference if the Pig had a grandfather called Trespassers William?

He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions⁠ ⁠… and he was going to see his first Heffalump in about an hour from now!

Of course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with two. But suppose Heffalumps were Very Fierce with Pigs and Bears? Wouldn’t it be better to pretend that he had a headache, and couldn’t go up to the Six Pine Trees this morning? But then suppose that it was a very fine day, and there was no Heffalump in the trap, here he would be, in bed all the morning, simply wasting his time for nothing. What should he do?

And then he had a Clever Idea. He would go up very quietly to the Six Pine Trees now, peep very cautiously into the Trap, and see if there was a Heffalump there. And if there was, he would go back to bed, and if there wasn’t, he wouldn’t.

So off he went. At first he thought that there wouldn’t be a Heffalump in the Trap, and then he thought that there would, and as he got nearer he was sure that there would, because he could hear it heffalumping about it like anything.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!” said Piglet to himself. And he wanted to run away. But somehow, having got so near, he felt that he must just see what a Heffalump was like. So he crept to the side of the Trap and looked in.⁠ ⁠…

And all the time Winnie-the-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. “Bother!” he said, inside the jar, and “Oh, help!” and, mostly, “Ow!” And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn’t see what he was bumping it against, it didn’t help him; and he tried to climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much of that, he couldn’t find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair⁠ ⁠… and it was at that moment that Piglet looked down.

“Help, help!” cried Piglet, “a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!” and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, “Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!” And he didn’t stop crying and scampering until he got to Christopher Robin’s house.

“Whatever’s the matter, Piglet?” said Christopher Robin, who was just getting up.

“Heff,” said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, “a Heff⁠—a Heff⁠—a Heffalump.”

“Where?”

“Up there,” said Piglet, waving his paw.

“What did it look like?”

“Like⁠—like⁠—It had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. A great enormous thing, like⁠—like nothing. A huge big⁠—well, like a⁠—I don’t know⁠—like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.”

“Well,” said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, “I shall go and look at it. Come on.”

Piglet wasn’t afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they went.⁠ ⁠…

“I can hear it, can’t you?” said Piglet anxiously, as they got near.

“I can hear something,” said Christopher Robin.

It was Pooh bumping his head against a tree-root he had found.

“There!” said Piglet. “Isn’t it awful?” And he held on tight to Christopher Robin’s hand.

Suddenly Christopher Robin began to laugh⁠ ⁠… and he laughed⁠ ⁠… and he laughed⁠ ⁠… and he laughed. And while he was still laughing⁠—Crash went the Heffalump’s head against the tree-root, Smash went the jar, and out came Pooh’s head again.⁠ ⁠…

Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed of himself that he ran straight off home and went to bed with a headache. But Christopher Robin and Pooh went home to breakfast together.

“Oh, Bear!” said Christopher Robin. “How I do love you!”

“So do I,” said Pooh.

—-----------------------

Well, that got kind of intense. Maybe even a little scary? I remember being pretty scared by that story when I was little. There’s a Hoffable Hellerump, after all. But that’s the thing. Piglet is a very anxious guy. He gets pretty upset about almost everything. I mean, I feel the same way some days. 

Let’s do some lessons. 

First, let’s check the Big Picture.

The simple question is: What in the world do YOU think a Heffalump is? Take a moment, even pause the show if you can, and answer the question. 

In this story, a Heffalump is a made-up animal. These stories are very heavy on imagination and make-believe, which is why they are so magical. So, nobody really knows what a Heffalump is, but nobody wants to say that in front of their friends, so they all act like they know exactly what it is. Pretty typical guy stuff if you ask me.

Now, how about we visit the Dictionary Disco?

There are quite a few excellent vocabulary words in this story, but these are tiny lessons, not enormous ones. So, if you want to study more vocabulary, do like I recommend in the Podcast User’s manual. Every time I say a word you don’t know, pause the show and look it up. There are some good ones in this episode. 

That said, here are two for now.

The first one is Murmur, which is used three times in one part of the story. To murmur is kind of like to say something quietly to yourself. In a way that other people can’t really understand you. 

The other word is Scamper, which is used twice in this story. Like “Piglet scampered off as hard as he could.” it’s a kind of running, but it’s running exactly like you think Piglet would, if he was excited or scared. His short little legs just moving as fast as they can. Zip!

Finally, we are gonna have a Melody Moment.

 I want to keep talking about Syllables for at least one more moment. The’re just so important. So Here are two words from the story. You tell me how many syllables they have. Ready? Heffalump….three. Goloptious…..also three. Goloptious and Heffalump are of course….not real words. Pooh loves made-up words. Now. In  both of these words, Heffalump and Goloptious, which syllable is the strong one? Take a minute. 

In Heffalump, the HEFF is the strongest. And the other two? Schwas. And GoLOPtious? It’s the LOP, the second syllable. And you guessed it. The other two are schwas. 

Now here’s the interesting part. IN those two words, we have schwa spelled FOUR different ways. Heffalump uses an A and a U to make schwa sounds. Goloptious uses an O and a, ious combo. 

I think it’s really important that you learn not to trust English spelling. Trust your ears. 

Let’s go to the credits. 

—---------------------------------------------

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 5 of A Little English. 

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. 

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