Warren, Worms & Woodhall Spa
March 6, 2014
When I was three I wanted a pair of jeans. My older brother and sister wore jeans and they looked great. So I began pestering my mother (apparently). Now I remember neither the pestering nor the eventual purchase of my first pair of ‘jeans’, but I do remember where they came from – not a real memory; rather a learned memory from my mother’s telling the story – but they came from Woodhall Spa. And the ‘jeans’ themselves I remember only too well: and I loved them. They were green cotton dungarees, with a squirrel embroidered on the bib front and they had crossover straps at the back. They were my first pair of ‘jeans’! I also remember my sadness when I grew too big for them.
Today sees the publication of my book of poems about worms. It’s written for – well, anyone who likes worms – or to convert those who don’t – and with special appeal to those aged seven or eight or under.
So how does this exciting news link with Woodhall Spa? Yesterday I read a newspaper story about this small town in my home county of Lincolnshire, which was holding its first Worm Charming contest. This highly newsworthy event became extra newsworthy by its extraordinary result: despite contenders’ best efforts, not one single worm was charmed from the ground! So if there are any readers from Woodhall Spa: you know where you can find worms – between the covers of Don’t Poke a Worm till it Wriggles.