Trumpet

G blows his own trumpet. He plays lots of tunes. He doesn't play the Archers yet. But he's only been playing for 5 years.

I watch him play. I dance a bit. I go right up to the trumpet and look inside. I can hear the music but I can’t see it. I think G hides it from me. He’s naughty like that.

Trouble

G was baiting D. He poked him. D ignored G. G poked D again. D ignored him. I looked at G. He had evil in his eyes and wickedness in his tummy. I hit him hard with my hand. It didn’t hurt G. It did hurt my pointing finger. I shrieked. D turned to G and told him off. The evil one had to sit still. His poking finger sat on his lap. My pointing finger and me sat on D’s lap.