to consult his friend Mr Gruber on the subject.
A few minutes later, after a quick wash, he hurried downstairs, collected the shopping list from Mrs Bird and his basket on wheels, and disappeared out of the house with a purposeful gleam in his eyes.
Pausing only to call in at the baker’s, where he had a standing order for freshly baked buns, Paddington soon rounded the corner into the Portobello Road and made his way in the direction of Mr Gruber’s shop with its familiar windows bursting at the seams with antiques of every shape and size.
Mr Gruber shared Paddington’s liking for cocoa and buns, and they often had long chats together over their elevenses. He had travelled a great deal in his younger days and Paddington felt sure he would know all there was to know about holidays abroad.
Mr Gruber was as excited as Paddington when he heard the news and he quickly led the way to the horsehair sofa at the back of the shop which he reserved for all their important discussions.
“What a nice surprise, Mr Brown,” he said, as he busied himself at the stove with a saucepan of milk. “I don’t suppose there are many bears able to take their holidays abroad, so you must make the most of it. If there’s anything I can do to help, you must let me know.”
Mr Gruber listened carefully to all Paddington’s explanations while he made the cocoa and his face took on a serious expression.
“I must say being in charge of an itinerary sounds a heavy responsibility for a young bear’s shoulders, Mr Brown,” he exclaimed as he handed Paddington a steaming mug of cocoa in exchange for a bun. “I shall have to see what I can do.”
And without further ado he got down on his hands and knees and began sorting through a pile of old books in a box behind the sofa.
“Everyone seems to be taking their holidays abroad at the moment, Mr Brown,” he said, as he began handing some of the books up to Paddington. “I’ve had rather a run on books about France, but I hope you’ll find these useful.”
Paddington’s eyes got larger and larger as the pile by his side got higher, and he nearly fell off his seat with surprise when Mr Gruber suddenly stood up holding an old black beret in his hands.
“It’s rather large,” said Mr Gruber apologetically, as he held it up to the light, “and there seem to be one or two moth holes. But it’s a real French one and you’re very welcome to use it.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington gratefully. “I expect the moth holes will do for my ears. Bears’ ears don’t fold very easily.”
“Well, I hope you find everything useful,” said Mr Gruber, looking very pleased at the expression on Paddington’s face. “You’ll need a lot of books if you’re going to plan an itinerary and it’s as well to be on the safe side. You never know what might happen when you’re abroad, Mr Brown.”
Mr Gruber went on to explain about some of the things Paddington would see while he was away, and it was some while before Paddington wiped the last of the cocoa stains from his whiskers and stood up to go. Time passed very quickly when he was with Mr Gruber because he always made things sound so much more interesting than other people did.
“I expect you’ll find lots to write in your scrapbook, Mr Brown,” said Mr Gruber as he helped Paddington load his shopping basket. “I shall look forward to reading all about it.”
Paddington felt more and more excited as he waved goodbye and staggered along the Portobello Road under the weight of all his belongings. The shopping basket was so heavy it was quite difficult to steer, and several times he nearly ran into one or other of the barrows which lined the street.
Apart from that there were so many things on his mind he didn’t know which to think about first. He was particularly anxious to try out his new beret, and some of Mr Gruber’s books looked most interesting. In the end he decided to sit down for a rest and investigate both.
He put his old hat on the ground, carefully adjusted the beret, and then began taking the books out of his shopping basket one by one.
First there was a dictionary. Then there was a French cookery book – full of recipes and coloured pictures of food which made his mouth water. After that came one packed with maps and instructions about things to see and do, and this was followed by several more books full of pictures.
Last of all Paddington came to a very important-looking leather-bound volume which had the words ‘Useful Phrases for the Traveller Abroad’ written in gold letters on its cover.
Before he took it out of the basket Paddington hurried across the road and dipped his paws in a nearby horse-trough. Mr Gruber had explained that the book was very old and he’d asked him to take especial care of it.
When he returned Paddington sat down again and began to examine the book. It was most unusual and he didn’t remember ever having seen one quite like it before. Just inside the front cover there was a drawing which showed what looked like a very old-fashioned car being drawn by four white horses, and it was full of sentences showing how to ask for things in French, with pictures explaining matters as it went along.
In no time at all he became so lost in the book he quite forgot where he was. There was one particularly interesting phrase in a section marked ‘Travel’ which caught his eye at once. It said ‘My Grandmother has fallen out of the stage-coach and needs attention.’
Paddington felt sure it would come in very useful if Mrs Bird happened to fall out of Mr Brown’s car while they were going along and he tested it several times, waving his paws in the air as the man in the picture seemed to be doing.
To his surprise, when he looked up, Paddington discovered he was surrounded by a small crowd of people who were watching him with interest.
“If you arsks me,” said one man, who was leaning on a bicycle studying Paddington intently, “I reckon he’s one of them onion bears. They come over every year from Brittany,” he added knowledgeably as he turned to the crowd. “They ’as their onions on a piece of string. You must ’ave seen ’em. That’s why ’e was spouting French.”
“Garn,” said another man. “That wasn’t French. He was ’aving some sort of spasm. Waving ’is paws about something shocking ’e was. Besides,” he added triumphantly, “if he’s an onion bear where’s his onions?”
“Perhaps he’s lost them,” said someone else. “That’s why he’s upset. I expect his string broke if the truth be known.”
“It’s enough to give anyone a spasm,” said a lady, “coming all this way and then losing your onions.”
“That’s what I said,” exclaimed the first man. “I expect he was ’aving a French spasm. They’re the worst of the lot. Very excitable, them foreigners.”
“I shouldn’t touch him, dear,” said another lady, turning to her small boy who had his eye on Paddington’s beret. “You don’t know where he’s been.”
Paddington’s eyes had been getting larger and larger as he listened to the crowd and he looked most offended at the last remark.
“An
