The World of Poo

not on the windowsill where he’d left it, and neither were the scissors.
    ‘Oh no! I’ve been tidied,’ he cried. ‘Being tidied’ was something that occasionally happened at home, but since the time his most precious stick had been tidied away (leading to long and recriminatory searches in the rubbish bins), he was usually given a bit of warning.
    He dashed down to the kitchen again, where Lily the maid was mopping the floor. ‘Have you seen my lucky poo?’ he asked frantically. ‘I left it on my windowsill with some scissors.’
    ‘Is that what it was?’ shrieked Lily. ‘That’s disgustin’, that is. I threw it out the window and thems was my best scissors, too. Don’t you go bringing any more dirt up into your bedroom, young man, or I’ll tell your granny. And what’s that on your shoe?’

    Geoffrey went back outside hurriedly to find Plain Old Humphrey, who was wandering down the path with the look of a man whose world was now a more comfortable place. ‘Lily tidied out my lucky poo,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever be lucky enough to be chosen by a bird again.’
    ‘Never mind, my lad. Just you wander across the park to the pigeon loft in Dimwell Street, and stand around there for a minute or two. But here’s a tip: put a bit of cardboard on your head first, then you can bring it back nice and easy. And I’ve got an old shed I’m not using where you can keep it safe.’

    ‘Can I keep my mouse poo there as well? Could I make a poo museum? I think poo is very interesting and it is
not
nasty,’ he said, his face going red. ‘After all, without poo everybody would explode.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Plain Old Humphrey. ‘I shall ask Hartley if she’s got any more spare jam jars. I think they could be quite useful.’
    At that point Geoffrey heard his Grand-mama calling from the house.
    ‘I think it’s time for your tea,’ said Plain Old Humphrey. ‘Better run along if I was you.’
    Grand-mama met Geoffrey at the back door. ‘If you’d like to wipe your feet and wash your hands really well, Geoffrey, I think there might be cake for tea. But first tell me, what have you been doing today?’
    ‘Well, I’ve started a collection,’ he said breathlessly, ‘and Plain Old Humphrey said I could use his old shed for a museum, and he gave me a bucket and spade and a trowel for collecting. And I took Widdler to the park, but I forgot my bucket and we met a boy called Louis. He was collecting dog poo in a bucket for Sir Harry King and he said I could help him again tomorrow.’
    ‘He would be one of Sir Harry’s pureboys,’ interrupted Grand-mama. ‘It’s a very useful job. But what exactly are you collecting, Geoffrey?’
    ‘Oh, any poo at all,’ he said. ‘In fact I want to collect every sort of poo there is. Plain Old Humphrey says it can be very useful and it’s interesting and sometimes it can be lucky.’
    ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’ asked Grand-mama. ‘Your cousin Robert collects stamps. I believe
they
are quite interesting and can sometimes be quite valuable.’
    ‘No, I think I’d rather collect poo,’ said Geoffrey without hesitation. ‘I don’t think anyone else in the world has a poo collection, so mine would be the first proper museum and I could charge people to come and see it.’ 6
     
    Much to his surprise, his Grand-mama gave him a big, if rather strange smile. ‘You are a very original thinker, Geoffrey.’ She touched the pearl necklace strung around her neck. ‘Would it surprise you to learn that these very expensive pearls are the poo of oysters? Given your interesting predilection I shall think carefully about where would be the best places for us to visit while you are staying. Come and see me after breakfast tomorrow and I shall have a plan.’
    1 Because mice are small they can squeeze in virtually anywhere and leave their poo around the house. However, they mostly take up residence in the kitchen and larder where food is stored and prepared. Mouse poo is about the same size and shape as a grain of rice but thankfully it’s much darker in colour so can be picked out, not just from carelessly stored rice, but also from bags of flour and other staples. Beware the short-sighted cook: not all the currants in the roly-poly pudding grew on a vine. And don’t ever eat black rice.
    2 Hen eggs quite often have poo stuck to them as chickens are indifferent about where they poo. In the Agatean Empire the poo is carefully