“That’s it, I refuse to read any more”
“What’s wrong?” asked Mr. Bumble.
“The newspapers. Full of vile things, and politicians,” Mrs. Bumble replied.
Mr Bumble could not resist rustling and shaking his newspaper which always encouraged the cat to attack it, which she did. On this occasion she went berserk and ate the thing so that a hole emerged from page one to page twenty seven or whatever the last page was. In any case Mr. Bumbles’ newspaper was now a large hole surrounded by a few rumpled, crumpled words.
“I don’t know what we can do to change the world. I just don’t know,” Mr Bumble said with a sigh.
“I don’t really see how we can.” Mrs. Bumble agreed, then suggested breakfast.
Downstairs Mr. Bumble went out to visit the oddly shaped summerhouse. The night before a bee had become entangled with Mrs. Bumble’s long housecoat thing, and as it was raining at the time, Mr. Bumble didn’t want to put the bee outside in the wet. So he’d put the housecoat, with bee, in the summerhouse and left the door ajar for it to get out if and when the rain stopped. This morning there was no sign of it so things must’ve worked out for the bee.
Breakfast outside emphasized the prolonged good weather everyone was enjoying; the sky was brilliant blue and a gentle balmy breeze kept the heat of the sun comfortable. Mr. Bumble had a lot of work to complete in his garden along the road; knocking down an enormous log box, and turning it into a less intrusive log store. As for Mrs Bumble, she was determined not to put off planting out the sweet peas. Yes, of course this should have been completed weeks ago. Yes, of course the sweet peas had developed roots that had tangled and hardened ALMOST beyond help. However she was determined to get the struggling plants out of their pots, into some decent earth and onto some climbing frame. The whole operation proved far more difficult and time consuming than she would’ve imagined. As she worked, it occurred to Mrs Bumble, not for the first time, the similarity that existed between gardening and life in general. When you don’t tackle things at the right time, when you sweep tasks under the carpet, they often end up being so much more complicated to deal with at the later date. But she persevered vowing that with regard to sweet peas at any rate, she’d learnt her lesson.
Mr. Bumble arrived to fill in the area outside the shed. He’d begun reconstructing the approach to the door, involving removal of earth, building a wooden construction and goodness knows what else. Now he began replacing the earth, topping it with sand grit and gravel and completely transforming what had been an awkward entrance. As he worked Mrs. Bumble tackled the mess in the wood shed. All in all a lot of transformation was taking place. In fact Mrs. Bumble meant to say to Mr. Bumble that the world had been changed after all, even if only a little. But in the flurry of putting together something to eat she forgot to mention it.
They were just able to see the last minutes of the world cup final. They thought it was going to be fifteen minutes but in fact they got to watch forty five minutes due to extra play time. Mr. Bumble was particularly pleased at the outcome and so was Mrs. Bumble. Another change for the world then; Germany had won the world cup and Mr. and Mrs Bumble from the UK were extremely pleased about it.