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I T WAS A warm summers day in Darkest Peru and deep in the rainforest, a scruffy bear cub was sitting in the fork of an orange tree sniffing the fruit. He picked one, squeezed it and his furry face split into a huge smile; the oranges were ripe! Hed been waiting for this moment for months. He hurried back to the tree house to tell his relatives the good news.
When he arrived, Aunt Lucy and Uncle Pastuzo were listening to a crackly recording of A Friendly Guide to London Life on their old wind-up gramophone.
It was one of many gifts given to them by a gentleman explorer many years ago; the first person to discover them living in the wild. Now, Aunt Lucy flicked a duster over his photograph.
You pass a stranger on the street, said the gramophone. What do you say?
Good morning, answered Aunt Lucy. And then I comment on the weather.
She knew it off by heart and while most of the advice seemed somewhat strange, if they ever visited the explorer in London as he had asked them to, they would need to know how to behave. The record ended with its usual tip,
And dont forget to raise your hat!
Uncle Pastuzo raised the explorers old, tattered, red bush hat that he now wore, picked a grub out of his fur and ate it.
Very sophisticated, said Aunt Lucy.
I try my best, he said.
Just then, their young nephew burst into the tree house waving an orange.
Good morning, my little hurricane, said Aunt Lucy.
Guess what, Aunt Lucy? he whooped, skidding across the floor and crashing into the gramophone. He landed on his bottom and as the needle bounced across the record, the gramophone trumpet fell over his head like a helmet.
Uncle Pastuzo grabbed hold of it and pulled, but all this did was lift the cub off the floor with the trumpet still wedged over his ears. He hung in space for a few seconds, then wriggling free, he thrust the orange under his uncles nose.
Uncle Pastuzo? Theyre ripe!
The cub tore the orange open and the scent of the juice filled the old bears nostrils.
Marmalade Day! he beamed, tumbling over his nephew as they raced each other out of the tree house.
My favourite time of year, smiled Aunt Lucy, watching Pastuzo swing the cub onto his broad shoulders and carry him off through the trees. The young bear took his uncles hat and waved it at her.
Meet you by the marmalade machine, Aunt Lucy!
Wash your paws and no licking the ladle, she called, lowering herself sedately into the bamboo stair lift that Pastuzo had rigged up to save her tired old legs.
She watched fondly as they romped off to gather oranges. Ever since the explorer had introduced them to marmalade all those years ago, making it had become an annual ritual. In fact, marmalade had become their favourite food, and Pastuzo had even built an ingenious contraption which helped them produce enough of the sweet preserve to last throughout the year, plus a few extra jars for emergencies.
After shed adopted her nephew, Aunt Lucy felt it was her duty to pass the marmalade-making skills on to him. It was true that letting a young bear loose with a sticky spoon was asking for trouble, but he seemed to be getting the hang of it.
By the time she reached the forest clearing where the magnificent machine stood, the oranges had been gathered and firewood was already piled up under the huge cooking pot waiting to be lit. Aunt Lucy struck a match.
Its a bumper crop, said Pastuzo, mounting the rickety wooden bicycle that operated the works.
This is going to be the best marmalade ever! said the cub, lobbing the fruit into a funnel. What did you eat before you discovered marmalade, Uncle Pastuzo?
Before the explorer came? he puffed. Those were dark days. We lived like animals, but now we are civilised! He raised his backside to give it a good scratch. We have marmalade, the most nutritious food known to Bear!
Aunt Lucy took a wooden spoon from the explorers old leather boot, which she used as a utensil holder, and stirred the pot.
All the vitamins and minerals you need for a whole day are contained in just one sandwich, announced Pastuzo as the cub climbed up the nearest tree to pick a fat juicy orange that hed missed earlier it was just out of reach.
One sandwich, Uncle? he said, stretching as hard as he could to grab the fruit. Then why do you eat so many?
Pastuzo patted his stomach apologetically.
Because they are, unfortunately, delicious!
The cub managed to catch hold of the fruit he was reaching for, but as he did, he slipped off his branch and hung there, dangling on the stalk, clinging to the orange by both paws. Unaware that he was spinning slowly above her, Aunt Lucy tasted the mixture.
Mmm not bad. But it needs something to give it a kick
The orange stalk snapped. With a startled cry, the cub plummeted. Catching his foot on a vine, he swooped across the clearing and, unable to stop himself, knocked the explorers boot into the pot. It landed with a sticky plop.
Oh for goodness sake, said Aunt Lucy as he whistled back past her ears.
Trying to slow himself down, he made a grab at his uncle who was peering into the marmalade, but only managed to snatch his hat. He swung back over the cooking pot and, flailing wildly, scooped it to the brim with boiling marmalade.
You cant be trusted with anything! said Uncle Pastuzo as the boot bobbed about in the marmalade. Were going to have to start all over again now.
Just then, the vine snapped, dumping the cub in the long grass. He hid the hat behind his back, hoping to empty it before anyone noticed.
Give that to me, said his uncle.
But but stammered the cub.
No buts!
Pastuzo grabbed the hat and put it on with a grand flourish, saying, Its about time I got a bit of respect around here.
Warm marmalade chunks slid down his cheeks. His expression changed.
Embarrassing but better than ever! grinned Uncle Pastuzo.
Aunt Lucy dipped her spoon in the pot. The marmalade tasted even better than last year.
When I said it needed a kick, this wasnt quite what I had in mind, she said, pulling the boot out by its lace. But it seems to have done the trick!
By evening, all the jars had been filled and several of them emptied again. The floor was covered in crusts and crumbs and just one marmalade sandwich remained. The cub lay in a tree branch and gazed at it longingly while his relatives dozed in their hammocks.
Delicious, burped Uncle Pastuzo.
Next year well try two boots, yawned Aunt Lucy.
The cub sat up.
Please may I have the last sandwich?
Uncle Pastuzo opened one eye.
No, no. A wise bear always keeps a marmalade sandwich under his hat for emergencies, he said, feeling for the last one with his paw and tucking it under his brim. The cub was about to ask what kind of emergency when a deep rumble rattled the marmalade jars.
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