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Mr Dickens
Mr Dickens
Mr Dickens
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Mr Dickens

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Davey is eleven years old when he picks up a book at a flea market. And it’s not just any book. This one is handwritten and very old. Inside it says:

The Journal of Charles Dickens

An Account of My Travels Around London in Search of Little Nell 

Davey has never heard of Mr. Dickens, but something about the words, the

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 22, 2017
ISBN9780648069461
Mr Dickens
Author

Duncan Jefferson

One thing about living a long life is to realise that suffering cannot be avoided. There are banana skins everywhere! The good news is that if you share that journey with people who love and support you then you will get to the 'other side' of suffering and be a wiser more complete human being.Who am I? I'm the son of George and Irene, brother of David and Ian, blessed husband of Maggie and father myself to six fantastic people. My father, my mother, my brother David and our son Rory are all dead and yet their lives still resonate in mine. I have been a Doctor of Medicine for over fifty years and have shared so many fantastic and deeply sad moments with those who have told me their own unique stories.Books have fed my mind and my imagination. I hope that Mr Dickens will continue to stimulate the minds and imaginations of young folk and help them become caring and good adults.

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    Mr Dickens - Duncan Jefferson

    Mr. Trent

    School didn’t change much for Davey in the weeks after that, but Davey himself changed. He’d always been on the edge of everything that happened. No one had really noticed him because he always acted small and never, ever asked questions in class—that was just making a big target of yourself. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends to play with, it was just that they weren’t that special. He drifted in and out of groups, but mainly hung out on his own and watched the others.

    Not that he was the odd man out, there were others like him: ones who avoided the bullies with all their prepubescent bluster, and those odd, intelligent ones sporting wires on their teeth and ill-fitting glasses. He would have joined the junior choir because he liked singing, but the teacher didn’t seem to like the way Davey sang, so he didn’t bother to audition. He was good at sports, but there was always someone quicker or stronger, so he held back there, too. All in all, Davey managed to avoid all attention apart from when they had class tests: then there was no hiding.

    In reading he was in the remedial group, in math he was just scraping by, and in social studies . . . well, that was worst of all. In the weeks after he found the diary, however, things changed. He asked a question that literally stopped the whole class. Why Davy, that’s a very good question, the teacher said, when Davy asked why people write diaries. In social sciences, too, although he never actually asked a question, he never took his eyes off his teacher when she spoke about England or anywhere other than America.

    In the week before the flea market was due to be held, Davy asked his Pa whether they could go and see that nice man who sold books. His parents had noticed how much brighter his spirits were since he’d gotten the book and happily agreed with the plan. Let’s hope we can find more of them books, his Pa said, an’ maybe I might even look for one for myself, too, eh? He grinned at Davy.

    Wouldn’t do any harm if you did, came a female voice from the kitchen, maybe you could get one on fixing up your shed. It’s a disgrace. Ma popped her head out of the door and blew her husband a kiss.

    I reckon your Ma deserves a tickle, his Pa said, moving off in her direction. Davy rolled his eyes and climbed up to his room. As he reached the landing, a gust of wind from the open hall window blew his door closed with a bang. "Sorry, Pa. It was the wind.

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