That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on t

I had a conversation with a teacher recently, who was complaining because her rigid instructions on what to put on a Mothers Day card hadn't been adhered to by one of her seven year old pupils. The little girl felt she'd somehow 'got it wrong', and ended up not giving the card to her mum because it wasn't like all the rest.

Everyone's imagination is vivid, but it can be shut down by adults who believe it's their job to control instead of guide their charges.

With this in mind I asked a couple of children to give me the subject for 'a story'. They looked at each other and gleefully decided on 'fish guts.

Then they chose the names of their characters. “Mildew' and Mustard” they said, and looked at me expectantly. "Don't look at me" I said. "It's your story."

This is what we came up with.

"Mildew is the smelliest brother in the world" thought Mustard. "His feet smell, especially when he sticks them in my face. And he hasn't had a bath since he started to walk!'

That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on t

I had a conversation with a teacher recently, who was complaining because her rigid instructions on what to put on a Mothers Day card hadn't been adhered to by one of her seven year old pupils. The little girl felt she'd somehow 'got it wrong', and ended up not giving the card to her mum because it wasn't like all the rest.

Everyone's imagination is vivid, but it can be shut down by adults who believe it's their job to control instead of guide their charges.

With this in mind I asked a couple of children to give me the subject for 'a story'. They looked at each other and gleefully decided on 'fish guts.

Then they chose the names of their characters. “Mildew' and Mustard” they said, and looked at me expectantly. "Don't look at me" I said. "It's your story."

This is what we came up with.

"Mildew is the smelliest brother in the world" thought Mustard. "His feet smell, especially when he sticks them in my face. And he hasn't had a bath since he started to walk!'

That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on t

Everyone's imagination is vivid, but it can be shut down by adults who believe it's their job to control instead of guide their charges.

With this in mind I asked a couple of children to give me the subject for 'a story'. They looked at each other and gleefully decided on 'fish guts.

Then they chose the names of their characters. “Mildew' and Mustard” they said, and looked at me expectantly. "Don't look at me" I said. "It's your story."

This is what we came up with.

"Mildew is the smelliest brother in the world" thought Mustard. "His feet smell, especially when he sticks them in my face. And he hasn't had a bath since he started to walk!'

That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on t

Then they chose the names of their characters. “Mildew' and Mustard” they said, and looked at me expectantly. "Don't look at me" I said. "It's your story."

This is what we came up with.

"Mildew is the smelliest brother in the world" thought Mustard. "His feet smell, especially when he sticks them in my face. And he hasn't had a bath since he started to walk!'

That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on t

That was seven years ago.

Mildew sat in his room, counting his fish guts. He arranged them in smells. Smelly, very smelly, and drop dead smelly. He had plans for these guts, and kept them in a special 'gut box'. It had a glass lid so he could keep a check on their progress.

His sister would go off like a fruit bat when she found them in the hood of her jacket.

It does seem mean, but Mildew reckoned his sister deserved it.

Mustard loved hot food. That's why everyone called her Mustard. She put chili's on her corn flakes, pepper on her ice-cream and mustard on everything else. It wouldn't have bothered Mildew, except she put something red hot in HIS food when he wasn't looking.

Last night Mildew had a drink of black currant juice. He swallowed twice before his tongue did something completely new. It exploded and blew a hole in the roof of his mouth.

Mildew found his voice, hiding in the fridge rubbing itself frantically against a packet of frozen peas.

"MUSTARD!" He screamed.

"Yes Mildew" smiled Mustard sweetly. "Oh, I quite forgot! I juiced a hundred of those nice little Mexican chili's and poured them into your juice bottle. I hope you don't mind.

She feigned horror. "You didn't drink it did you Mildew?!"

"The hottest chili's in the world" she shouted after him, "Mum! Mildews been drinking my chilli juice ..... Tell him not to!"

Mildew's mouth was so hot his teeth rattled and his face was falling off. He looked at his 'gut box'.

But fish guts were bad. After watching them mutate ov