Eddie Muir wrote:By the way, on the subject of errors, doesn't it annoy you that so many people misspell your name?
Don't get me started on that one.
Poppy, in my defence, as Darrell Waters was Enid's married name it wasn't something that was unexpected within the Enid Blyton context. If it had said 'Darrell Jones' or something like that I think it would have jumped out at me immediately.
I'm probably making myself look even dafter than usual here, but it's just occurred to me, Darrell Waters and Darrell Rivers - a river is made of water, is that why Enid Blyton chose the surname 'Rivers', as it was so similar to 'Waters'?
I expect everyone is going to say, yes that had worked that one out years ago.
But - it did explain to me something that had always puzzled me as a child, which is why Darrell had what is usually a boy's name. I highly doubt that there were many female Darrell's in the forties
I don't know if this is an error or not,but in 1946 edition of The Mystery of the Vanished Prince we are told that the mystery begins four weeks into the children's Summer holidays-yet look at the calendar in Goons kitchen...
" A kind heart always brings its own reward," said Mrs. Lee.
- The Christmas Tree Aeroplane - Society Member
Yak wrote:Hehe yes, I had worked that one out years ago
But - it did explain to me something that had always puzzled me as a child, which is why Darrell had what is usually a boy's name. I highly doubt that there were many female Darrell's in the forties
I never realised until I was an adult that Enid's married name was Darrell Waters. I always thought it a very unusual name, and although I've never met anyone with that name, if I'd seen it for the first time anywhere else I'd have assumed it belonged to a boy.
Perhaps Goon was so desperate to see the back of the children he'd already changed his calendar to September.
"It's the ash! It's falling!" yelled Julian, almost startling Dick out of his wits...
"Listen to its terrible groans and creaks!" yelled Julian, almost beside himself with impatience.
I think the date could be right.... the children often seemed to be well into the month of September while still on holiday. I remember thinking they had a late start to the autumn term when I first read the books. Our schools have started returning earlier in September than they used to though. The first week is usual now, but I know that in the '60s the local infant/junior school went back on September 12th because my children were able to announce on their first day back that they had a new baby sister, born that morning!
'Tis loving and giving that makes life worth living.
Daisy wrote:I think the date could be right.... the children often seemed to be well into the month of September while still on holiday. I remember thinking they had a late start to the autumn term when I first read the books. Our schools have started returning earlier in September than they used to though. The first week is usual now, but I know that in the '60s the local infant/junior school went back on September 12th because my children were able to announce on their first day back that they had a new baby sister, born that morning!
I am sure that the date was right as in those days private schools would certainly not have gone back until the middle of September as summer holidays were 8 weeks and normally didn't start until fairly late on in July.
Funny about the calander - I have just noticed an illustration which puzzled me a bit too. I have just finished The Mystery of Holly Lane in the Dragon edition and on the front cover is a picture of th boys peeping into an old horse cart in broad daylight - well it looks like that anyway. Here's the cover if you haven't seen it: http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?q=The+My ... 2&hovw=143" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
In the book it states they were searching for the lost furniture in these carts in the night...
"Beware of young men with long hair - that's what dad says, isn't it?"
Pat, Holiday House
You would make a good Find-Outer!
From day to day it goes better with my arm. 
