Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land

‘Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land. You can go there if you are lucky enough to have been chosen by the fairies – but, only if you are one of the best kids in existence. You see, only one girl and one boy get to go each year and they are selected because they are smart, courageous and strong.’ I pause, relishing the look of delight on the faces of my third-grade students as I retell the story my dad created.

It no longer feels like I’m at work. I’m pulling myself and the children into a world of marvels. What happens next will follow the loose pattern of good triumphs evil in a fantasy setting of gastronomical delights.

‘To get to Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land, you have to hold the fairies hand and not let go. Up, up, up you fly until the clouds are a blanket beneath you. When you reach the boundary between our world and Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land, a giant waterfall tumbles from above. You fly behind the thundering wall of water, tiny fragile creatures compared to its astronomical height and width. The waterfall is so noisy, your ears feel like bursting, and by the time you slip into long, dark cave hidden behind the waterfall, you are relieved to be in the sudden silence.’

I pause. ‘This part is a little scary. I can skip it if you like.’

‘No, Mrs Jensen! Don’t stop!’ a chorus of voices beg.

‘Well, the dark cave goes on for what feels like forever and in there, strange, wet things brush against your skin and tug at your ankles. You can’t see anything – it is pitch black and if you let you of the fairy's hand, those things – whatever they are – will keep you in there forever.’

‘I’m scared.’ Emily, who cries at everything, hugs her knees and rocks to and fro. I panic. Was the dark cave too much? Am I going to get emails or phone calls from angry parents?

‘Oh, don’t be scared. You see, they are actually lonely little frogs living in the dark cave. They only want hugs from you. No one wants to hug lots of wet frogs in the dark, do they? That’s why you can’t let go of the fairy's hand.’ I try not to laugh at my ridiculous attempt to erase Emily's imaginative ghouls and replace them with something benign. I just hope she’s not afraid of frogs.

‘Keep going!’ Seb begs, tugging on my pants. He is right at my feet, and I guess he can see up my nose from that angle. ‘I’ll stop if Emily is too scared,’ I state, looking at her for permission. Poor Emily doesn’t stand a chance. All the other kids in the class begin to hassle her.

‘You’ll be alright.’

‘It’s not scary.’

‘You could sit outside?’

Emily crumbles. ‘Keep going.’

I make a mental note to tone the story down, but can't help but feel annoyed by the restrictions being placed on my storytelling. I loved how my dad described the scary parts in his Hobble Gobble Gumpling stories in detail. They balanced the exquisite moments where the children were given three days to eat and drink anything they wanted in this purely edible world. Ah! It was my childhood dreamscape!

‘Once you exit the cave, there is one more obstacle to get through before arriving in Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land. You arrive at an ocean with a low ceiling above it. The fairy is forced to fly just above the lapping waves and your body is splashed by the cold water. This ocean is full of mermaids, who pop their pretty heads out as you pass over. They sing the most beautiful siren song and it makes you want to let go of the fairy's hand and go to them. ‘Don’t listen,’ the fairy warns. ‘They want to keep you with them forever.’ It’s hard to ignore the mesmerizing song, but you manage to stay focused because you’re one of the smartest, most courageous, strong kids in the world. ‘Come to us,’ the mermaids sing.

‘No!’ you yell back and suddenly, there is the land beneath you. You made it!’

A few kids clap. I check the time. Five minutes until the bell. I’m not going to get through the story, but that’s good. Leaving my students hungry for more will create a creative discord that will result in rich conversations during lunch hours and plenty of predictive imagining. At last something else for them to think of aside from gaming.

‘You look around in awe. Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land is the most beautiful, astounding place you've ever seen! Everything is made from the most delicious food that never spoils. The dirt is chocolate. The river is lemonade. The plants are all made from different kinds of candy! And did I mention you can fly in Hobble Gobble Gumpling land without a fairy holding your hand? Well, you can! And you never get full, overweight or tired! You could fly right up and nibble on a fairy floss or marshmallow cloud if you wanted to.’

The children’s faces are greedy. Some lick their lips. ‘I’m hungry,’ someone moans.

‘It’s nearly lunch,’ I remind them.

‘Keep going!’ urges Seb, tugging on my pants again.

‘Personal bubble,’ I remind him and he shuffles back a little.

‘Now, even though you want to stop and eat, the fairy hurries you along. The queen fairy – the one who chose you from all the other children on Earth, is waiting to meet you. She has an important mission to give you. You and the other child that has been chosen to go to Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land, must defeat the witch of garbage and rotten fifth. Her name is Demora and she has started to transform Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land into a stinking, slosh of decaying food.’

The children are horrified. Seb clasps his hand over his mouth in dismay. ‘Demora has been breeding giant cockroaches in all this rubbish. They are her army and each one is as big as a child.’ Emily’s eyes are wide with terror and I can’t resist adding, ‘Demora's cockroaches are eating the fairies and magical woodland creatures. Each creature they devour gives them extra power to destroy Hobble Gobble Gumpling land.’ My students react to the horror.

‘Cool!’

‘Gross!’

‘Freaky!’

‘I’m scared.’

‘Yes Emily, I know. Lucky I’ve finished the story for the day.’

The bell rings and my students reluctantly rise from the carpet. I realise that this was the first time Tomas sat still for more than two minutes. ‘That was very good listening,’ I say. ‘If you have good behaviour, we can have the next part of Hobble Gobble Gumpling land story tomorrow.’

As the students file out, I grab my whistle, first aid bum bag and hat in preparation for play duty on the oval. I expect I’ll see a few of my students playing games based on the story. My siblings and I enjoyed acting out the various scenes my Dad invented over many years of telling different stories based on adventures in Hobble Gobble Gumpling land.

I wonder if my imagination would have developed to be as extensive as it is if he hadn’t ignited my juvenile brain with his words. I doubt it. Hobble Gobble Gumpling land stories gave me my first experiences of travelling into fantasy worlds where anything could happen – if only you could think of it. The joy and freedom of fiction!

I smile at my students as I step over their lunch boxes in the eating area. I know exactly how I’m going to end my first Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land story. Of course, the children will defeat Demora and make it home safely. No time on earth would have passed, even though they had been gone for weeks. The children will swear to keep their adventure secret and pledge to stay in contact for their entire lives.

Then I will end my story with the statement my Dad always used. ‘Do you know how I know all about Hobble Gobble Gumpling land? Well, I was one of the smartest, most courageous and strong children in all the world. The queen fairy chose me and I experienced everything you just heard.’

‘It’s just made up.’

‘Don’t lie.’

‘It’s just a story – you said so,’ the children will say.

‘Put your hand up if you want to believe it’s true.’ I will prompt and surely most of my students will raise their hands. ‘Excellent. Because you can believe whatever you like. It’s fun.’ And then, I will produce a bag of candies. ‘Oh, what’s this? A bag of candy from Hobble Gobble Gumpling land? If you believe, these candies will taste like your favourite flavour.’

I will take one of the candies and unwrap it slowly. ‘I wonder what this will taste like? I’ve forgotten my favourite Hobble Gobble Gumpling land flavour….it’s been so long.’ I will pop the candy into my mouth and transform my face from expectation into one shining with delight and joy. ‘Mmmmm chocolate mint! Oh, it’s so delicious!’

As the class eats their treats, they will share the flavours of their own magical candy. Of course, some of the children will refuse to let go of reality. It’s harder for certain personality types to abandon rational thought. Still, I know most of them will remember my dad’s Hobble Gobble Gumpling land story for the rest of their lives. For a generation starved of stimulus that hasn't been technologically brutalised and mass-produced, this gift of imagination is a wonderful legacy.