‘Enough is enough!’ cried Wally the wombat after the two hundred and sixty-ninth rendition of ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’.
Olive had, you see, buried her koala hat right near Wally’s burrow. The high-pitched music travelled surprisingly well under soil. Something to do with worms being largely composed of water, and water being an efficient conductor of sound waves, I think. But who cares? Let’s not let science get in the way of a wonderful story!
Wally needed to escape the music.
He had two choices.
One – he could resurface and return to the building, where he would have to face Thistlebloom.
Two – he could dig . . . deeper . . . away from the music.
He chose to dig.
He dug like he had never dug before.
To escape the music.
The incredibly annoying music.
He dug and gouged, burrowed and tunnelled, scooped and scraped, with such determination that, suddenly, he found himself surfacing on the other side of the world, in China.
Right in the middle of a beautiful garden that belonged to a charming lady called Jinjing.
