Jack and Jemima run this board! People tell us that we make them want to stay childless, but is it our fault they’d prefer some dimwitted lumps to kids with a bit of intelligence and drive?
I’m Jack, and I’m 12, and my hobby’s constructing siege engines in the back garden. I’m quite interested in science and want to be a scientist when I grow up. Not a mad one like next door, though! My hero is Robert Oppenheimer, though I’m not quite sure whether he was right or not. I’m all for blowing stuff up, but surely there has to be limits? I mean, if you blow everything up, what’s left to do?
I’m Jemima, and I’m 8. I help Jack with his experiments sometimes, but there’s not much point to them, I think. There’s too much noise and dust, and my sparkly isn’t so sparkly anymore! Life is much more fun with sparkles, and I like to wear as many as possible. Jack says that I’m so glittery that if we were stuck in a dungeon with a vampire, all he’d need to do is light a candle and I could blind him. But that’s not very fair, killing something that can’t see you! Typical boy… I’d rather use an axe, and do it face to face. Well, face to waist. What would you use?
Jemima’s reminded me that we should also tell you about Fred. (He can’t tell you himself, he can’t use a keyboard.) Fred’s our magic couch – he can travel through time and space, and he’s how we can talk to people from ye olden days. Fred used to belong to Mum and Dad, but Dad especially didn’t like him very much. He – that’s Dad – was always losing stuff when he came home from work… keys, loose change, socks, a fire hose. Fred was eating them, of course. Jemima tried to tell Dad it was just because Fred was really hungry, but Dad didn’t believe her. Actually I didn’t believe her for a long time either. Fred talks with such high pitched squeaks that only Jemima can hear him. (It’s like she’s got bat-ears.) But Dad got grumpy once he’d lost his wallet for the fifth time in a week, and turned Fred upside down to shake stuff out of him. Well, he got more than his wallet! This old manuscript popped out, and Fred got so miffed that he tried to swallow Dad. Well, to cut a long story short, after that Jemima and I got the couch to go in our rumpus room. Dad looked rather hopeful, I don’t know why. And we kept the manuscript to play with, although it wasn’t very interesting, and was in such a funny language. I tried translating, but only got as far as the title – something about Poetics Part 2, by Aristotle, but it was so boring Jemima and I gave it back to Fred, and he munched it into dust. Poor thing was starved! Anyway, he’s rather useful if a bit ugly, although he does listen mostly to Jemima. She feeds him more than I do.
