Digital Story Transcript

I remember as a young child, around five or six, being very excited at the prospect of a mysterious visit from Aunty Droopy Drawers. Aunty Droopy Drawers was my own special relative, even though I have no doubt that she visited many other special children too. She would come while I was asleep, leave me sweets in a brown paper bag together with a note explaining the adventures she’d had since her last visit.

She had a black crow as a trusted assistant, who would check at the window to see if I was asleep before Aunty Droopy Drawers arrived to drop off her next written instalment of their latest exploits. Although I never actually saw either of my friends, I knew they existed. My imagination led me to see them in far greater detail than if I had sat and stared at them for ages.

Horace the crow was as black as could be, so black that the edge of his feathers had a blue haze with light reflecting off the shiny surface. I know Aunty Droopy Drawers was always smiling, dishevelled although spotlessly clean with red and white stripy tights. And of course, the droopiest bloomers ever.

Thinking back now, I can’t remember when she stopped visiting. I think it was the time, when I suppose, I thought I was all grown up. It’s surprising, I haven’t thought of them both for many years and now as the years seem to be going by all too quickly, I wish they would pop back for a visit. Just to feel that excitement again. Who knows? Maybe tonight?

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