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I Don't Want That in My Ice Cream!

George Fratton

Sophie, ten (but she might be eight and a half or nine and three-quarters) puts on her mummy's shoes and clip-clops into disaster and guilt. When her ‘best-est' friend Jessica is on holiday, Sophie is so desperate for someone to play with that she ends up at the home of the weirdest girl in her school, who has a morbid interest in funerals... for soft toys.

As for their invented language, not only do Sophie and her ‘best-est' friend understand it, but so do sinister beings from elsewhere in the universe.

After a hard day at school, she is horrified to be lectured at by complete strangers on subjects ranging from cinema to doggie poo. She finds herself swimming in a cup of weak tea with a toad, travelling back in time to WWII, and featuring in a bizarre documentary.

Step into the Kafkaesque and weird world of Sophie, her cantankerous mother and her doting daddy.

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A teenage boy and his father were sitting on Freshwater Bay, Isle of Wight, taking a break from a cycle trip. The boy gazed at the horizon.
"I suppose France is over there somewhere," the boy ventured.
"Yes, but you can't ride your bike. You'll have to get a ferry," the father replied.
It was such helpful, informative people that brought George Fratton up in a small market town on the shingly bit of the south coast of England. He graduated from a prestigious university three hundred and fifty miles away and later lived in other English towns of varying sizes and degrees of prosperity and interest. It was his ‘Freshwater Moment' that inspired him to explore what lies beyond the line where sea meets overcast sky and embark on an odyssey through Europe and the Middle East, and ending up in the largest city in one of the world's five habitable continents.