Deserves the widest possible audience, hence the reblog. Keep up the good work – I’d grade it but I haven’t yet got my head round whether it is the high numbers, or the low numbers, that denote a high level of attainment.
Mr Gove was not quite sure about Christmas.
There were some things he loved about Christmas. He liked the services. He liked the singing. More than anything else, though, he loved the Tradition. Mr Gove loved Tradition.
But there were some things he hated about Christmas. All that laziness. All that self-indulgence. And the schools, wasting so much time. Letting the children have too much fun, when they should be working hard. When they should be competing in the Global Race.
Mr Gove was thinking about all these things when he was having his dinner. Tradition, particularly. He enjoyed his dinner very much, though he wondered if he might have eaten too much Stilton afterwards.
When he went to bed, he felt a little strange. When he drifted off to sleep, it was a restless sleep, and he found himself dreaming.
Mr Gove shivered and opened his eyes.
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