Free Paddington Here and Now by Michael Bond Page A

on one of hisoutings with Mr. Gruber.
    It was situated in a busy high street some distance from the Portobello Market, and it stuck in his mind, partly because at the time he had thought Oyster Travels seemed a very unusual name for a shop and also because there had been a large revolving globe in the window. Mr. Gruber had stopped to admire it, and as it went slowly round and round, he had pointed out all the different countries as they went past.
    “Since they invented the airplane, Mr. Brown,” he had said, “the world has shrunk. There are very few places left that cannot be reached in a matter of hours rather than weeks. I expect this shop took its name from the old saying: ‘The world is your oyster.’ In other words, ‘It is yours to enjoy.’”
    Mr. Gruber had a happy knack of making even quite ordinary things sound exciting, and Paddington’s latest idea was far from ordinary. It had come to him during the night while he had been lying awake trying to think what to get the Browns for Christmas.
    The first time he had seen the shop it had been full of people, but as he drew near he was pleased to see that apart from a rather superior-looking man who looked as though he was about to open up for business, there was nobody else around.
    “The early bird catches the worm,” the man said approvingly as he held the door open for Paddington.
    “I daresay you’ll be after one of our cheap day return trips,” he said, sizing up his first customer of the day. “A day out in Brightsea perhaps? It can be very invigorating at this time of the year. The coach leaves in half an hour, and if the weather forecast is anything to go by, it will certainly blow the cobwebs out of your whiskers.”
    Paddington took a quick look at his reflection in the polished glass. “Those aren’t cobwebs,” he said, giving the man a hard stare. “It’s shredded wheat. I ate my breakfast in a hurry because I wanted to get here before anyone else.”
    “I do beg your pardon.” The man wilted under Paddington’s gaze.
    “I was really wanting to inquire about some ofthe places you have on your globe,” said Paddington. “Mr. Gruber was telling me all about them.”
    “My dear sir, you couldn’t have come to a better place.” Leaping into action, the man began washing his hands with invisible soap as he ushered Paddington to a stool opposite one of the counters.
    “I happen to be the manager,” he continued, going around to the other side and reaching for a pad and pencil. “As I like to tell all our customers, the world is not only our oyster, it is yours too. We are here to take care of your every need.
    “Perhaps you could let me have a few details first, starting with your name and address.”
    Paddington did as he was bid, and while the manager was writing it down he glanced around the shop. It seemed full of interesting things. Apart from a number of real oyster shells dotted around the counter, there were some giant plastic ones hanging from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in posters showing vacationers with happy, smiling faces as they bathed in the blue sea or lay back in their deck chairs, enjoying thesunshine. There wasn’t a gloomy face to be seen anywhere, and he felt more certain than ever that he had come to the right place.

    “Will it be just for your good self?” inquired the manager. “Or will you be accompanied? We do have what we call our Singles Special.”
    “There will be seven of us,” said Paddington. “It’smy treat, and I want to take them somewhere special for Christmas.”
    “Seven!” The manager took a firmer grip of his pencil. “Would you mind giving me their names?”
    “Well,” said Paddington, “there will be Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and Mrs. Bird. Jonathan and Judy, and I’m hoping Mr. Gruber might be able to come too.”
    “Quite a large party,” said the manager, looking suitably impressed. Taking a closer look at Paddington, he revised his first impression. Clearly he