The Wombles to the Rescue Read Free

excited about being back in their old home burrow to notice that Great Uncle Bulgaria, Tobermory and Madame Cholet were rather quiet and thoughtful. After all, it’s not every day that you swap burrows and so get the chance to explore all your old, familiar, favourite places.
    â€˜I’ll tell you what,’ said Bungo. ‘I’d forgotten how many ups and downs there are here. Hyde Park was a bit on the flat side.’
    â€˜It was smashing for swimming in though,’ said Tomsk, and then he added hastily as he saw Bungo’s mouth open, ‘I mean the Serpentine was smashing for swimming in. Bigger.’
    â€˜But full of boats and people a lot of the time. Human Beings don’t do any of that sort of thing in Queen’s Mere,’ said Bungo, who was in that mood when he wasn’t going to have anybody say anything against Wimbledon Common, because he was so happy about being back there again.
    â€˜Mmmm,’ said Tomsk, and he went stumping off with his front paws clasped behind his back and his chin on his chest.
    â€˜Gone to look for golf balls, I expect,’ said Wellington. ‘He misses Omsk, you know.’
    â€˜Dull sort of Womble he was,’ said Bungo. ‘Hardly spoke really. I wonder if all the Russian Wombles are like that?’
    As Omsk was the only Russian Womble anybody had met and had, only quite by chance, come into contact with his British Womble relations, nobody could answer this question.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said Wellington, ‘but Omsk and Tomsk got on very well together, so now Tomsk misses Omsk. It’s funny really, leaving a Russian Womble behind in the Hyde Park burrow to look after it.’
    â€˜There’s nothing much left to look after,’ said Bungo, ‘now that Human Beings have suddenly started being so tidy. They don’t leave rubbish and stuff lying about like they used to. Why, I remember when I was quite a young Womble . . .’
    â€˜You still are,’ said Orinoco, who had been shifting round and about to make himself a nice cosy bed in the bracken, as he very much wanted to have a little nap in order to get his strength up for tea. ‘You still are a young Womble, because I can remember when you chose your name out of Great Uncle Bulgaria’s atlas, and it wasn’t very long ago either. Even then you were far too bossy, and now you’re bossier than ever. You think you know everything, but you jolly well DON ’ T , SO SHUT UP for a bit and go AWAY .’
    Bungo was so surprised at this most unexpected attack that he did exactly as he was told (for once) and Wellington, who had been almost equally surprised, said, ‘That was a bit hard, Orinoco, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜Umph,’ replied Orinoco, pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes, ‘p’raps. But I’ll tell you one thing, I just can’t stand bossy Wombles. Now DO be quiet!’
    â€˜If that’s not being bossy, I don’t know what is,’ muttered Wellington. ‘What’s the matter with you all of a sudden? It makes me feel all itchy and scratchy under my fur when Wombles start snapping at each other . . .’
    â€˜ Zzzzzzz ,’ said Orinoco.
    Wellington heaved one of his enormous sighs which made his large, round spectacles slide right down his nose, and then he went off after Bungo, who was sulking near the Windmill.
    â€˜I thought it was going to be lovely being back here on Wimbledon Common,’ said Bungo, ‘but it’s not all lovely after all. In fact, it’s quite nasty in some ways. Orinoco’s cross, Tomsk won’t talk and the burrow’s not half as comfortable as it used to be, because nothing seems to be working properly. And I’ll tell you what, I think it’s got something to do with Cousin Botany. So there!’
    It was an unkind thing to say, and Bungo, although very bossy-and-know-it-all, was not nasty about other Wombles, which