Paddington Takes the Test. Michael Bond

to make room for Paddington to climb through, “you can do me a little favour if you like. I’m just going upstairs to change. I shall only be five minutes, but while I’m gone you can test my hammock for me as a treat … just to make sure it’s sa … er … comfortable.

      “But make sure you do it properly,” he continued, as he helped Paddington through the gap in the fence. “And no helping yourself to my orangeade while I’m not looking. I’ve marked the jug, so I shall know at once.”

      Mr Curry broke off and took a closer look at Paddington’s whiskers, several of which had some suspiciously red stains on them. “While you’re at it,” he said, “you might like to gather a few raspberries for me. If you do I may let you have a proper go with the hammock later on … after I’ve finished with it for the day.”

      “Thank you very much, Mr Curry,” said Paddington doubtfully. “I shall look forward to that.”

      He gazed unhappily after the retreating figure of the Browns’ neighbour. Doing favours for Mr Curry was something which had long ago lost its appeal; more often than not things went wrong. For a moment or two he toyed with the idea of climbing back through the fence and going to see Mrs Bird first, but he hastily changed his mind as Mr Curry turned and gave him a final glare before disappearing down the side of his house.

      Pushing his doubts to one side, Paddington turned his attention to the hammock. He was the sort of bear who liked anything new, or, at least, anything which was new to him; for seen at close quarters, the hammock looked, if possible, even older than it had from a distance.

      Although, as Mr Curry had explained to him, the hammock was meant to have holes, some of them looked far larger than they had started off as originally, and all in all Paddington decided he didn’t much like the look of it.

      But it was when he actually tried to climb into it that his troubles really began, for he soon discovered that looking at a hammock is one thing; getting into one is quite another matter.

      To start with it was rather higher off the ground than he would have liked, and not for the first time Paddington found himself wishing bears were born with longer legs, for when he tried to lift one of his up in order to climb in, it didn’t come anywhere near the edge.

      Trying a different approach, Paddington grasped the hammock from underneath with both paws, then taking a deep breath he heaved both legs off the ground in the hope of getting them round the middle and gripping it from either side like a pair of pincers.

      The first part of his manoeuvre went very well indeed, and for several moments he hung suspended beneath the hammock while he took stock of the situation. It was when he tried to carry out his next move that things started to go wrong, for without Wellington boots his claws got stuck in the rope mesh and try as he might he couldn’t free them. In the end he had to let go with his paws and hope for the best. For a moment or two he hung upside down with his head a few inches from the ground until there was a sudden ‘ping’ and the string broke.

      Paddington was very glad he’d been wearing his hat, for Mr Curry’s lawn felt decidedly hard. As it was, the marmalade sandwich he usually kept there in case of an emergency went some way towards breaking his fall, and for a moment or two he lay where he was gasping for breath while he tried hard to think of some other way of tackling the problem.

      Without a book of instructions it was very hard, and in the end he decided the only answer was to take the bull by the horns and make a run at it. Crossing to the far side of the lawn he took another deep breath, pulled his hat down over his ears, and then hurried towards the hammock as fast as his legs would carry him. As it loomed up in front of him he took a tremendous leap in the air, and clutched blindly at the first thing which met his grasp.

      Paddington wasn’t quite sure what happened next. He was vaguely aware of a feeling of relief as his paws met with rope, which he clung to as hard as he could, then to his relief he felt the rest of him land in something soft. After that everything became a blur. Almost at once he started spinning round and round like a top. Gradually, however, the spinning slowed down until at last he came to a stop with only his head poking out. The rest of him had the appearance of a tightly-trussed chicken; one moreover which was not only oven-ready but practically ready to serve up for Sunday lunch. Far from being relaxed in the way Mr Curry had described, Paddington felt more like a sailor who had just rounded Cape Horn during a particularly bad storm.

      But the worst was yet to come. He hardly had time to free one of his paws in order to make sure his hat was still on when he felt himself start to spin in the opposite direction, slowly at first, then with ever-increasing speed, until he was suddenly ejected from the hammock like a stone from a catapult, only to land on the ground a moment later in almost the very same spot as before.