The Wombles Go round the World (2 page)

‘Omsk. And don't forget, Tobermory, what difficulties we faced when we finally returned to our Wimbledon Common Burrow. You remember how it ended up – with far more of us returning than I had first expected. Why, even I myself became homesick for Wimbledon!'

‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,' said Tobermory, ‘it really is remarkable what a lot has happened to us Wombles, one way and another. Why, I don't believe I can remember the half of it.'

‘No, I don't suppose you can,' agreed Great Uncle Bulgaria, ‘but fortunately I have always kept up my diary, in which I write down everything. Which reminds me, Tobermory, I made a note only this morning that my rocking chair needs oiling. You might see to it as soon as you can, my good Womble. I don't want the thing squeaking and squawking while I'm trying to concentrate.'

‘Yes, Bulgaria,' said Tobermory, who was so relieved to see his old friend being busy and important again, that he nobly didn't mention that he'd been the one who had referred to the poor state of the rocker only a couple of minutes ago.

‘Good, good. I know I can always rely on
you
, Tobermory. You are always needed here at Wimbledon, just as I am. Although perhaps not
quite
as much. Which makes it all very difficult. Whom shall I send?'

‘Send?' asked Tobermory cautiously. ‘Send where? I say, we're not going to have to move again, are we? I never did like that Hyde Park burrow. Too draughty by half.'

‘No, no, no, no. I wonder if I might borrow that writing board of yours and that pencil? Thank you so much. Well, come along, Tobermory, don't just stand there with your mouth open. There's not a moment to lose.'

With these words Great Uncle Bulgaria seized the clipboard and the pencil and with
The Womble History
under his other arm, he marched out of the Playroom. Tobermory shut his mouth with a snap which made his bowler hat fall over his eyes and followed, muttering under his breath, ‘Oh lor, oh dear, now what's he up to? I was only trying to get him out of the doldrums. I didn't mean him to get all fired up. The next thing you know he'll have us all going to the moon, or some such nonsense, and asking me to make a clockwork rocket . . . oh dear, oh dear . . .'

In the kitchen everybody was stuffing the last of their bracken buns into their mouths and whispering. Nobody, not even Orinoco or the smallest Womble from the Womblegarten, looked in the least sleepy or bored, as they all had that prickly feeling in their fur which meant that something interesting and exciting was about to happen.

‘I do like Important Announcements,' said Alderney to her great friend Shansi.

‘I don't,' said Shansi, ‘not very much really. They make me drop trays.'

‘Well, nothing was broken, little one,' said Madame Cholet, ‘so please stop worrying. Ah-
HA
, Monsieur Bulgaria arrives. Now we shall see what we shall see.
N'est-ce pas
?'

Having a French name, Madame Cholet likes to speak French from time to time.

‘Wombles,' announced Great Uncle Bulgaria, ‘I have made an important, a
very
important decision. It was pointed out to me tonight by some of you young Wombles that
The Womble History of the World, Vol. Nine
, was old-fashioned and out of date.'

Wellington gulped and half swallowed a crumb, but luckily, before he could choke, he was hit on the back by Tomsk.

‘And those young Wombles were quite right,' went on Great Uncle Bulgaria. ‘I only wish that they had mentioned it to me before. One is never too old to learn, whatever some of you may think. Therefore I have decided that we Wombles of Wimbledon shall bring things up to date.
We
are going to write
Vol.
TEN
.'

Everybody looked at everybody else and then back again.

‘What a smashing idea. Sorry, good idea. I like writing things,' said Wellington.

‘I don't,' said Bungo.

‘It's very hard sort of work,' muttered Orinoco.

‘Mm,' agreed Tomsk.

‘Good writing is most important,' said Miss Adelaide, who is in charge of the Womblegarten.

‘Writing out recipes is all right,' said Alderney.

‘I could do the pictures, perhaps?' suggested Shansi.

‘Thank you,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, ‘of course, I shall do most, if not all, of the writing concerning what has happened to us Wimbledon Wombles. We have had so many adventures one way and another, but they will only be a part of
Vol. Ten
. You see, if a great many exciting things have occurred
here
, it must follow that Wombles all over the world will also have thrilling stories to tell. Don't you agree?'

There was a buzz of agreement after everybody had thought this over.

‘Therefore,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, when all the nodding and muttering and whispering had died down, ‘I think, I believe, I
know
that it is up to some of us Wimbledon Wombles to collect all those exciting stories – from burrows everywhere.'

‘Oh dear, oh lor,' muttered Tobermory. ‘
Now
what?'

Madame Cholet passed him three bracken buns and a mug of hot acorn juice and went, ‘
Shhh
.'

‘So,' went on Great Uncle Bulgaria, ‘this is my Important Announcement. I want four Womble volunteers to travel round the world and find out what has been happening to all the other Wombles. It will be interesting, it will be exciting and it may even be dangerous. Well?'

There was a moment's silence and then Bungo and Tomsk put up their paws, followed closely by Wellington. Orinoco, who had dozed off for a second, wondered sleepily if anybody was being asked if they would like another bun and put up his paw.

‘Bungo, Tomsk, Wellington, Orinoco,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. ‘Congratulations. You are about to start on the Greatest Womble Adventure of your lives. Report to my study at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. Tobermory, I'd like a word with you.'

.

* See
The Wombles.

** See
The Wandering Wombles.

*** See
The Wombles at Work.

.

Chapter Two

Back to School

‘I wish you'd told me what was happening,' grumbled Orinoco. ‘I thought Great Uncle Bulgaria was asking if anybody wanted another bun. I didn't know he was talking about going to foreign countries and
if
I'd known, I jolly well wouldn't have said yes.'

‘Well, you didn't, he was and you have,' replied Bungo, who was bursting with excitement and energy. He took a quick look round the Common to see if there were any Human Beings about but, as it was six o'clock on a cold, wet, grey morning, there wasn't a sign of one. In fact, the only movement to be seen was a small, round figure jogging across the skyline.

‘Tomsk doing his morning run,' said Bungo, and he put down his tidy-bag and did a backward somersault out of sheer high spirits.

‘I wish you wouldn't do that,' said Orinoco, who was in a really bad mood. ‘It makes me tired just watching you.'

‘Shut your eyes then,' said Bungo and did another one; but, because he wasn't looking where he was going, he flipped straight into a bramble bush.

‘Ouch, help,' shouted Bungo, making a clutch for his cap which had been jerked off his head.

‘You do look funny,' said Orinoco, starting to laugh.

‘Lend us a paw, there's a good Womble,' said Bungo, jumping up and down as he tried to grab his cap which was bobbing about just out of reach.

‘He-he-he, ho-ho-ho, ha-ha-ha,' wheezed Orinoco, clutching his stomach. ‘Go for it, Bungo.'

‘And what do you think you're playing at?' asked a quiet voice, which made Orinoco stop laughing and Bungo stop bouncing in half a second flat.

‘If you've quite finished wasting time, then kindly return to the burrow at once; Tobermory is waiting for you,' went on Great Uncle Bulgaria and he reached up with his stick, tweaked the cap free and dropped it on to Bungo's head. Then he held out the handle to Bungo and pulled that young Womble out of the bush with no trouble at all.

‘Burrow!' said Great Uncle Bulgaria and pointed in that direction. Off went the two young Wombles at a fast jog-trot.

‘Isn't it strange,' gasped Bungo, ‘that Great Uncle Bulgaria always seems to be in places where you don't expect him!'

‘Mm,' replied Orinoco who, because he's rather fat, can't talk and run at the same time.

‘Ho, ho, ho,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, having a quiet little laugh on his own. ‘I must admit Bungo did look very funny. Stupid sort of name, Bungo, but it does suit him!'

In the Workshop, Tobermory was surrounded by full tidy-bags which he was sorting out in his usual efficient way. Standing beside him was Shansi with a notebook and a pencil.

‘Newspapers, three. Good, there's a copy of yesterday's
Times
. Put that on one side for Great Uncle Bulgaria. Milk bottles, four: kitchen for Madame Cholet. Yoghurt cartons, six: Cousin Botany for seed pots. Pieces of paper and paper bags, various: Miss Adelaide for the Womblegarten. Tin cans . . .' Tobermory stopped speaking and looked up as Bungo and Orinoco came in and put down their tidy-bags.

‘So there you are,' he said. ‘Now, I want you two to go straight to the Womblegarten, where you'll report to Miss Adelaide.'

‘The Womblegarten!' said Orinoco. ‘But that's for
little
Wombles. Not for working Wombles like us who do tidying-up.'

‘Ah, but things are changing,' said Tobermory, his little round eyes twinkling. ‘You see, according to Great Uncle Bulgaria's latest orders, you working Wombles are going back to school, while the little Wombles are to learn tidying-up.'

Orinoco and Bungo, who for once in their lives were quite unable to speak at this extraordinary news, looked at each other and then back at Tobermory.

‘Orders are orders,' he said. ‘Off with you, and don't keep Miss Adelaide waiting. Now, then, Shansi, what have we here? One saucepan, bad condition: Workshop. Three gloves, various . . .'

‘The Womblegarten,' grumbled Orinoco. ‘Fancy having to go back to school! I don't like this new adventure at all. It sounds too much like hard work to me. I wish I'd never . . .'

‘Put your paw up, I know. But it may not be too bad,' said Bungo.

Wellington and Tomsk were already sitting at desks with notebooks made of ironed-out paper bags in front of them. Miss Adelaide was standing at the side of a large map of the world with a stick in her paw. She looked over her spectacles at the latecomers and nodded to them to sit down.

‘Attention please, Wombles,' she said. ‘As from this moment you are released from tidying-up duties . . .' Orinoco's face brightened and then fell as Miss Adelaide went on, ‘so that you can concentrate on learning about the countries to which you will travel. Great Uncle Bulgaria and I have made out your itineraries.'

‘Itin—?' said Tomsk, who wasn't at all sure what was happening.

‘Travel plans. You, Tomsk, will travel with Wellington. You did quite well when you worked together before.'

‘Oh yes, when we went to Buckingham Palace and I was a Guardwomble,' said Tomsk. ‘I remember. I wore a uniform and Wellington . . .'

‘Exactly. Precisely, but we won't go into that now. And you, Orinoco, will travel with Bungo, because Bungo has plenty of energy while you Orinoco are – sometimes – quite sensible. Wellington, as we all know, is
extremely
sensible.'

‘Oh, I say, sorry, but . . .' muttered Wellington.

‘But inclined to be absent-minded,' went on Miss Adelaide. Wellington sighed and nodded. Sometimes he even got lost on Wimbledon Common, so how was he going to manage to find his way in the big wide world?

‘I'll keep an eye on him,' rumbled Tomsk, who rarely worries about anything as he's always pretty certain that difficulties, no matter how scaring, will be overcome in the end.

‘A
TTENTION
please,' said Miss Adelaide, tapping the map with her stick. ‘Now as you can see, I have divided the world into two parts – with this black line down the middle – so that you will have half each. Understood?'

The four young Wombles nodded speechlessly. It sounded so grand to be given ‘half the world' to cover.

‘Bungo and Orinoco, you will go west to America . . .'

‘Oh good, that means seeing Cousin Yellowstone again,' said Bungo, who had always got on very well with his American cousin.

‘Good sort of Womble,' agreed Orinoco. ‘I remember when I kind of met him outside the back door of Fortune and Bason and . . .'

‘We
all
remember it,' said Miss Adelaide. ‘We can also recall
why
you happened to be there in the first place. Shall I proceed, or would you prefer to take over this lesson?'

There was absolute stillness and silence in the Womblegarten.

‘Thank you
so
much,' said Miss Adelaide with the quiet politeness which had been known to make even Great Uncle Bulgaria stop talking. ‘After you have finished working with our American cousins, you will travel even further west to Japan. If, Wellington, you were about to point out that Japan is normally considered to be to the east, I would remind you that Japan is to the
west
of America. When your work is finished there you will proceed home to Wimbledon. Any questions?'

‘Please, yes, sorry, but
how
are we travelling?' asked Wellington anxiously.

‘We're not walking, are we?' Orinoco said in a horrified voice. ‘I mean America's even further away than Scotland . . . I think.'

‘I sometimes wonder,' said Miss Adelaide, ‘if you ever paid any attention at all during your time in the Womblegarten. Unless you had webbed paws like our Water-Womble cousin, Nessie of Loch Ness, you would find it extremely difficult to
walk
to America. Please look at the map.'

‘Oh yes,' said Orinoco after a pause, ‘there's all that sea to cross.'

‘The Irish Channel and the Atlantic Ocean to be precise. No, I do not, as yet, know how you will travel. That is Tobermory's department, not mine. He is now, I understand, T.O.W.' And Miss Adelaide gave a slight cough behind one silky grey paw.

‘I didn't think you spelt Tobermory like that,' said Tomsk, who was getting more puzzled by the minute.

‘You don't. T.O.W. stands for Transport Officer Womble. You, Tomsk, together with Wellington will travel eastwards, calling in on various Womble burrows in Europe before proceeding still further to Australia and New Zealand. Any questions?'

The four young Wombles stared silently at Miss Adelaide. All their four sets of eyes had a glazed look and all four mouths were open, and for one pin, let alone two, they would have liked very much to stop being volunteers and to go straight back to nice, ordinary tidying-up work.

‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,' said Miss Adelaide bracingly, ‘you are now old enough to go out in the world and to have proper exciting adventures. Why, Cousin Yellowstone was only young when he ran away to sea – on his own – and worked his way rightround the globe. And look at Cousin Botany: he went to sea
too,
*
although I must admit that he did it by mistake – and that was in a sailing ship as a stowaway. Then there was the Great MacWomble Chieftain who helped Bonnie Prince Charlie and Flora Macdonald to escape from the soldiers. And there are many, many more Wombles who have performed all kinds of brave acts. Don't you want to be like them, or would you prefer to stay here just being snug and comfortable?'

‘Yes,' said Wellington honestly, ‘I would, because I'm not a brave sort of Womble myself. But well . . . all right, perhaps it won't be too bad having adventures . . . I hope.'

‘Of course, it won't. It will be most interesting and, what is more, those adventures will all be written down and put into
Vol. Ten
. You may very well become famous, in a minor kind of way.'

‘I'd
like
to be famous,' said Bungo. ‘I'd like Wombles everywhere to read about
me
.'

‘I thought you might. Ah, listen, I think I can hear the trolley coming. You may have a ten-minute break. No more than three sandwiches, Orinoco; we want you to be fit not fat.'

Alderney came bouncing into the classroom, pushing the trolley with her cap over one eye and her apron fluttering.

‘Morning, Miss Adelaide. Madame Cholet said, please could you please spare her a minute in the kitchen. I say,' she straightened her cap and looked at Orinoco, Bungo, Wellington and Tomsk, ‘it's not fair. You
are
lucky. I wish it was me that was going off travelling and meeting all our Womble relations. I say, wouldn't one of you swap with me? It's really not bad working in the kitchen and doing the washing-up, you know. And I would love to go and have adventures and see new countries and all that. Well?'

Now such is Womble nature that the moment Alderney uttered these words the four reluctant volunteers immediately changed their minds about the whole business.

‘Sorry, awfully sorry, but no,' said Wellington.

Tomsk shook his head.

‘Rather
not
,' said Bungo.

‘Can't be done,' said Orinoco. ‘You see, I've just had a jolly good idea. I'm going to collect Womble recipes round the world. I'm sure Madame Cholet would be very interested. Of course, I'm only going to do it for her.'

‘Oh bother,' said Alderney. ‘Oh well, never mind then. But next time, when we get to
Vol. Eleven
, I'm going to volunteer before anybody else. Who wants a buttercup relish sandwich?'

Miss Adelaide, who had been hovering in the doorway, smiled gently and made her way to the kitchen, where Madame Cholet handed her a steaming mug of acorn juice.

‘And how does it go?' enquired Madame Cholet.

‘It goes
comme ci comme ça
, but there is a great deal of work to be done before our young Wombles are ready to face what lies ahead. Are those daisy cream buns I see? Well, perhaps just one – or maybe two.
Merci
, Madame Cholet.'