My granddaughter lives on the other side of the world.  She is three.  She call’s me Guffy.  So do her friends, so does her “Mom”.  Her dad calls me Dad.  I visit often, and stay for a good long time.  My grand daughter and I hunt witches in her house.  And hyenas.  She loves watching the Lion King.  We hide under the bed covers; the hyenas live under the bed.  We need to keep fully coverd or the hyenas will scratch and bite us.  She calls me Mufasa, I call her Simba.  When we hunt witches my granddaughter uses a magic lasso to catch and subdue them.  I help her drag them up the stairs and flush them down the lavatory.  Sometimes they come back again.

One day she and I took the free bus across town to have lunch with her mom, at a little place near her work.  Lots of other moms and their kids had lunch with us and then we all went to the park to play.  After a while all the moms and the other children went home or back to work and my granddaughter and I were left alone at the park.  We had a few minutes to wait until our bus arrived so we played Little Red Riding Hood in the trees at the edge of the park.  A man came past walking a very big dog.  We asked him if his dog was really the wolf.  He looked at us strangely and didn’t answer.  He just kept walking.  We waited for the bus and blew the heads off dandelions.

My grand daughter went sound asleep on my lap during the trip home.  Playing all those games made me tired too.

After half an hour we got back to our village, and the bus stopped at the shops.  Nearly everyone got off, but we stayed on as we had another few stops to get right home.  Besides, my granddaughter was still asleep.

It took a while for all the people to get off, and even when they did the bus still stayed at the bus stop.  Absentmindedly, I looked up and saw four policemen talking to the driver and looking towards the back of the bus.  I looked at the other passenger trying to work out if she was a criminal.  The policemen were dressed in black and weighed down with weapons of all description.

Then the four policemen walked down the bus passed the other passenger and stood around where I was sitting with my sleeping granddaughter.  The other passenger got off the bus, quickly.  The policemen stood very close to me.  They towered over me.  I felt affronted.  They asked “What are you doing with the little girl”.  I said would you please sit down if you want to talk with me.  Crossly, they said answer the question.  I said she is my granddaughter, now will you please sit down.  They seemed to stand taller and closer.  “Prove it”, they said.  “What?”  I said, “she’s my granddaughter, she is asleep.  Why don’t you stay on the bus and I will show you where we live.”

Show some identification they said.  I pulled out my Australian Drivers License.  Over time the stud of my wallet had made a hole through the photo ID – right between the eyes.  Two of the policemen got off the bus.  After some time they got back on and said “We’d like you to get in the police car and we will drive you home.”  I said no thank you.  I will go in the bus.  My granddaughter was starting to wake up.  I was not having her wake up in a police car.

The policemen agreed to come in the bus to my granddaughter’s home.

After about an hour they finally said “We had a report of a suspicious man with a little girl in a park.  Then we followed this bus and found you.  We are satisfied that you are indeed the girl’s grandfather. We are only doing our job you know.”

My grand daughter and I still fight hyenas and hunt witches, although we do keep a good eye out for community minded dog walkers.  I’ve told a number of grandfathers about my experience and the vast majority have said that they would never take their grand children out on their own, especially not their granddaughters.  I think that is so sad.  No doubt the witches and hyenas are pleased.

Postscript. Not long after this event I returned home.  A friend of my granddaughter’s asked where Guffy was?  The parents reported that I had gone back to Australia.  No, she said, I think he’s in jail.

Cecil Poole CP (Complete Prat)
As we have no image of Mr Poole here is an image
of a complete prat