The Invisible Womble by Elisabeth Beresford

Author:Elisabeth Beresford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 4

A Breath of Fresh Air

‘Atish-ooooo!’ yelled Great Uncle Bulgaria in his study and his papers were blown in all directions by his quite enormous sneeze. ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk,’ said the old Womble as he blew his nose. ‘What’s the matter with the burrow at the moment? A Womble can’t do anything without . . . without . . .’ his voice rose, ‘WITHOUT . . . ATISHOOOOOOO!!!!!’

This time the sneeze was so violent that little puffs and swirls of dust made the study look quite hazy for a moment or two, and Great Uncle Bulgaria had to take off both his pairs of spectacles to give them a good clean. Then, holding his handkerchief over his nose, he went off to have a word with Tobermory in the Workshop.

A large notice had been pinned on the Workshop door. It said:

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ALL WOMBLES ARE REQUESTED TO BRUSH THEMSELVES DOWN CAREFULLY BEFORE ENTERING. POSITIVELY NO DUSTY WOMBLES ADMITTED. DELICATE REPAIR WORK IN OPERATION.

SIGNED: TOBERMORY.

P.S. THIS MEANS YOU!

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‘Tsk, tsk, tsk,’ said Great Uncle Bulgaria, only – because he was speaking through his handkerchief – it came out sounding like ‘Tssshh, tssshhh, tssshhh.’ ‘Well, well, one must abide by the rules . . .’

Great Uncle Bulgaria took off his tartan shawl and gave it a good shake, and then he patted his white fur (he was so old his fur was the colour of new snow) and finally he took off his little tartan cap and gave it a couple of sharp taps with his paw. Quite a bit of dust went drifting off down the burrow and Great Uncle Bulgaria had to put his paw quickly under his nose to stop himself from sneezing as he knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ said Tobermory. ‘Who is it now? Oh, it’s you, Bulgaria. Got the sneezing problem, have you? So have I! Done my best to fight it, but I haven’t found the right answer yet.’

‘Goodness gracious me,’ said Great Uncle Bulgaria mildly as he looked at his old friend, who was wearing white overalls and a kind of helmet made out of a saucepan lid. But what made Tobermory look really strange was a white handkerchief, two corners of which were knotted round the knob on the top of the lid so that the rest of the handkerchief was draped round his nose.

‘Dear, dear me,’ said Great Uncle Bulgaria. ‘Tobermory, you resemble some dreadful masked bandit.’

‘I know I do,’ said Tobermory, the handkerchief blowing in and out with every word, ‘but how can I possibly put the bits of three old clocks together in order to make one good, reliable clock, if I keep sneezing every other second? This is my own anti-dust kit, but it’s not at all satisfactory. The handkerchief tickles my nose and that makes me want to start sneezing again. The burrow’s absolutely full of dust and it is most inconvenient and . . .’

Tobermory went on for quite a while in a grumbling sort of way, and

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