There was a giant
once who was lonely. Most giants are, of course, or would be if they stopped to
think about it...
They don’t think
about this loneliness, however, because thinking isn’t something they go in for
very much. Mostly they just get on with business of being giants, which takes
up all their time and which is very hard work because it is laid down in the
Rule Book fore Giants that, when they aren’t actually eating or sleeping, they
have to stamp around the countryside bellowing at the tops of their voices and
looking very fierce. Looking fierce is
hard work in itself as you’ll find out if you try it for half an hour. You keep
on forgetting that you’re supposed to have a scowl on your face and you find
yourself smiling at something. Than you have to start all over again…
Being kept so busy
means that giants don’t have much time for thinking. When a giant does manage to
get a few minutes to himself he generally feels so tired that he just drops off
to sleep. He sits down first of all with his back against the nearest hill.
Than he opens his huge mouth and gives a huge yawn. Then he spits out all the
birds that have got sucked into his mouth while the yawn was going on. Then off
he goes to dream-land.
But the giant who was
lonely was different. He had long since lost his rule book and had never
bothered to get it replaced. He didn’t go around stamping and roaring because
he couldn’t see much point in it. It only made your feet sore and gave you a
headache. Besides that, it frightened people away and he didn’t want to frighten
people away. He wanted to be friendly.
What made him especially
different from other giants though, was that he was always thinking, and what
he was always thinking about was how much alone he was.
It was true that
Angus (his name was, by the way, Angus Macaskill) did have one or two friends
among the ordinary-sized folk. There was Morag Matheson, for instance, the
shoemaker’s daughter…
She doesn’t look like
a shoemaker’s daughter to me, does she!
However, if you like
to read funny, charming and intelligently written fairytales, read The Lonely
Giant by Alasdair MacLean.
Just don’t pretend
that you have outgrown the good bedtime stories! How can you be a great illustrator
if the child within has left you. Think of, for instance, the Hobbit novel, which Tolkien began as a
simple bedtime story for his children. At the moment the whole world is talking
about the Hobbit movie. More importantly there would be no The Lord of the Rings
without Hobbit! Great things have often
small, and sometimes silly, beginnings :)
I wish you a happy day with a good,
healthy dose of silliness and laughter !
