Stories · Curiosities · Questionable Ideas · Rather a Lot of Imagination · Farah Sam · Author & Creator ·
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Welcome to my wonderfully dramatic world of diary disasters, family mysteries, suspicious paw prints, secret clues, and Very Important Expedition Notes. In my world, every map may lead somewhere marvellous, every rhyme may hide a mystery, and every wink from Granny Maple usually means someone should start packing immediately. Join me, Tilly, Granny Maple, Sir Bark-A-Lot, and the mysterious Seven Sparkly Sisters as we tumble into funny, curious, globe-trotting adventures where nothing goes quite to plan — which, obviously, is when things become properly interesting.
My name is Max Sparkly.
I am 9 and ¾, which is a perfectly respectable age for an explorer, diary-writer, map-reader, clue-solver, and person who usually knows where the biscuits are kept.
Every summer, I try very hard to have a sensible holiday.
Unfortunately, I live with people who think “sensible” means packing a dog, a little sister, a mysterious clue, three emergency snacks, and Granny Maple’s very suspicious wicker basket.
This is how I keep ending up in deserts, temples, markets, mountains, museums, villages, boats, ruins, and other places where something historic is usually about to fall over.
My sister Tilly calls it an adventure.
Sir Bark-A-Lot calls it a sniffing opportunity.
Granny Maple calls it “just a little family trip.”
I call it extremely worrying.
Still, someone has to write everything down properly.
So I do.
Welcome to Max Sparkly Diaries.
Please bring a pencil, a map, and possibly a spare sandwich.
Welcome!
Dear Friends,
You have just discovered my secret expedition headquarters, which means something very important is probably about to happen. This is the official record of my most extraordinary expeditions. Please note: these adventures are not ordinary holidays. Ordinary holidays involve ice cream, postcards, and possibly one small suitcase.
Our holidays involve mysterious clues, ancient places, suspicious baskets, missing biscuits, my sister Tilly shouting, “I FOUND SOMETHING!”, and Sir Bark-A-Lot sitting on important luggage.
Granny Maple says it is all perfectly normal. It is not.
Every summer, the Sparkly Expedition sets off from our village of Pickleberry Falls to explore remarkable places around the world. There are maps to read, clues to solve, great-aunts to find, and several situations that require sensible socks.
This page contains everything a proper reader needs to know about my diaries, my family, our travels, and the great mystery of the Seven Sparkly Sisters.
No giggling allowed.
Unless Tilly has done something ridiculous.
Which is often.
Here's Tilly now.
Max’s
SECRET
EXPEDITION
Headquarters
Dear Friends,
My name is Tilly Sparkly.
I am 8 and a half, which is a very grand and important age for riding shaggy camels, dancing with rainbow children, catching glimmering fireflies, and helping my brother Max look a little less like a dusty prune.
Every summer, Max tries very hard to have a "sensible holiday" (which usually means sitting on a rock and worrying about his clean socks). Fortunately, Granny Maple and I know that the best holidays require a proper supply of crumbly biscuits, a secret map, and Sir Bark-A-Lot—our tremendously serious Chief Inspector! This is how we keep ending up in ancient tombs, bustling bazaars, hot-air balloons, and all sorts of extraordinary places where a spectacular muddle is about to begin.
Max says it is all extremely worrying and sighs a lot.
Sir Bark-A-Lot gives a brave bark because he believes he is Captain of the Entire Expedition.
Granny Maple gives a playful wink and says, “Rise and shine, explorers!”
I just giggle from behind a potted palm and call it altogether scrumptious!
Max writes everything down in his secret blue diary, but it is much too grey and needs more personality. So, I make sure to inspect it properly when he isn't looking. I like to add bright purple crayon crowns to the drawings and leave a few sticky strawberry jam thumbprints in the margins to fix his spelling. He roars like a camel when he finds them, but sticky thoughts are much better than grumpy ones!
Welcome to Max Sparkly Diaries!
Please bring your sturdiest boots, a pocket full of biscuits, and prepare for a most astonishing adventure!
I must explain about Pickleberry Falls, because it is not at all like the city.
In the city, there are buses, shops, crossings, parcels, people rushing about, and grown-ups saying things like, “Hurry along now.” But Pickleberry Falls is quite different. It has rolling hills, winding lanes, little woods, stone walls, muddy paths, and fields full of sheep who look at you as if they know a splendid secret.
It is also where Granny Maple lives.
Every summer, Tilly and I go to stay with her, and that is when things usually begin to happen.
Granny’s house is the sort of house that looks cosy and sensible from the outside, with flowers by the door and smoke curling from the chimney. But this is not to be trusted. Inside, there are old albums, odd cupboards, maps, tins of biscuits, and the sort of mysterious things that make a person sharpen his pencil at once.
Behind the house, there is a treehouse for secret meetings, a stream for paddling, grassy places for hopscotch, and a lane that leads towards the woods. Tilly says the woods are full of whispers. I say there is probably a perfectly sensible explanation, though I have written it down just in case.
Some days are for baking bread with Granny Maple, running across the fields, getting frightfully muddy, and making plans that seem excellent at the time. Other nights are for camping under the stars, listening to owls, and wondering whether that rustle in the hedge is a rabbit, a clue, or Sir Bark-A-Lot doing something he ought not to be doing.
Admiral Whiskers does not approve of the countryside. He sits in the window looking grand and cross, as if the entire village has been arranged badly.
But I like Pickleberry Falls very much.
It is the place of bare feet, blackberry scratches, warm kitchens, secret meetings, sensible socks, Granny Maple’s surprises, and biscuits that disappear under suspicious circumstances.
Before every great Sparkly Expedition, there is always Pickleberry Falls.
And in my experience, if Granny Maple winks before breakfast, it is best to pack immediately.
Pickleberry Falls
Granny Maple never simply walks into the shop. She bustles in as though she has an important secret mission, asks after everyone's relatives, chooses three splendid things, then suddenly remembers she also needs buns “for later,” which generally means “for right now in the taxi.”
Sir Bark-A-Lot is spectacularly unhelpful in this establishment. He sniffs the doorstep, wags his tail at total strangers, and once attempted to inspect a cream bun at dangerously close range. Mrs Thwaite was very gracious about it, though she did say, “Eee, not again, Bark-A-Lot, tha cheeky pup!”
The most famous delight is Mrs Thwaite’s Pickleberry Lemon Drizzle, though Granny swears by the Victoria sponge, and I am prepared to defend the shortbread stars as excellent travel provisions.
Today’s Special: Lemon Drizzle Slice with Extra Icing
Most Important Observation: Tilly firmly believes that choosing only one cake is a ridiculous idea and probably against the rules.
Pickleberry Places
As Recorded by Max Sparkly, Proper Scholar and Official Observer of Village Matters
The Cake Shop
Owner: Mrs Martha Thwaite
The Cake Shop belongs to Mrs Martha Thwaite, who is wonderfully rosy-cheeked, cheerful, and always looks as if she has just thought of something delicious. Her shop smells delightfully of vanilla, warm sponge, raspberry jam, and very good decisions.
The window is filled with Victoria sponge, lemon drizzle, berry tarts, Yorkshire parkin, iced buns, jam biscuits, shortbread stars, and other alarming temptations. Tilly always presses her nose directly to the glass, giggling and waving wildly at the cakes as if they are old friends. I have told her on numerous occasions that cakes do not wave back, but she is a stubborn thing and refuses to listen.
Granny Maple bustles in with great purpose, asking for a loaf, then another loaf, then “perhaps just two buns,” as though the buns had personally requested to come home with us. She says a proper kitchen ought to have fresh bread in it at all times.
Sir Bark-A-Lot behaves as if he has been officially appointed Chief Crumb Inspector. He noses about near the baskets, sits hopefully by the counter, and becomes especially alert when anyone says the word “bun.” Mr Broadbent claims Bark-A-Lot can smell a warm loaf from half the village away, which I believe may be a scientific possibility.
The bakery’s true treasures are the honey oat loaf and the cinnamon buns, though I must also mention the crusty cottage loaves, which are quite magnificent with jam.
Today’s Special: Honey Oat Bread and Cinnamon Buns
Most Important Observation: A warm loaf never lasts long once Granny says, “Shall we slice it now?”
The Baker
Owner: Mr Joe Broadbent
The Baker is run by Mr Joe Broadbent, who has flour all over his apron, a merry face, and the agreeable habit of handing people warm bread as if it is the most natural thing in the world. His bakery is full of fresh loaves, crusty stottie cakes, honey oat bread, cinnamon buns, berry scones, and small golden buns that Tilly calls “pocket bread.” The whole place smells so splendid that even a sensible person begins thinking about butter immediately.
Tilly is always completely beside herself here. She giggles, waves at Mr Broadbent, waves at the bread, and once waved so enthusiastically she nearly tumbled straight into a basket of teacakes. Mr Broadbent is an absolute brick; he only laughed and gave her a currant bun to steady herself.
Granny Maple bustles here too, though in a softer way. She lifts bunches of lavender, chooses posies for the kitchen table, and says things like, “A house always looks happier with flowers.” She usually leaves with far more blooms than she intended, which I think is a very pleasant outcome.
Sir Bark-A-Lot cannot be entirely trusted around the flower buckets. He sniffs every arrangement as though checking it for clues, once sneezed directly into a basket of daisies, and looks extremely proud of himself whenever Miss Booth ties ribbon around a pot.
Miss Booth’s loveliest offering is the Pickleberry Posy, though she also makes welcome bouquets, picnic posies, and what she calls “cheer-up flowers,” which Granny says are very useful things to have in the world.
Today’s Special: The Pickleberry Posy and Lavender Bundles
Most Important Observation: Flowers are excellent, but Tilly waving them about turns them into a sudden and dangerous weather event.
The Flower Shop
Owner: Miss Clara Booth
The Flower Shop is run by Miss Clara Booth, who is graceful, smiling, and able to turn an ordinary bunch of flowers into something that looks as if it belongs in a fairy story. Her shop spills out onto the pavement with roses, lavender, daisies, tulips, wildflowers, and delightful bouquets tied with ribbon. It is the sort of place that makes the whole street seem cheerfuller merely by existing.
Tilly absolutely adores the place. She giggles at every bouquet, waves wildly at Miss Booth, and usually insists on carrying an arrangement almost bigger than herself. She says flowers make people feel “sunshiny,” which is not a scientific term, but it does seem accurate.
Granny Maple bustles up and down the narrow aisles, filling her basket with a most astonishing speed. She may enter for a single apple and leave with herbs, bread, jam, tomatoes, carrots, and a grand plan for soup. She says one must always be prepared for anything.
Sir Bark-A-Lot becomes rather suspicious here, chiefly because he believes anything wrapped in brown paper might be a treat. He sits beside Granny’s basket, sniffs the air importantly, and watches the sausage counter with great moral seriousness.
Mrs Sugden’s specialties are her Pickleberry apples, fresh garden herbs, and homemade chutneys, though her vegetables are so fine Granny says even soup feels more cheerful when they are involved.
Today’s Special: Pickleberry Apples, Fresh Herbs, and Homemade Chutney
Most Important Observation: Granny can apparently carry twelve things in one basket without dropping a single tomato. It is quite a baffling feat.
The Grocer
Owner: Mrs Hannah Sugden
The Grocer belongs to Mrs Hannah Sugden, who knows exactly where everything is, even if it is hidden behind a crate of pears, three jars of pickled onions, and a mountain of Yorkshire potatoes.
Her shop is packed with apples, tomatoes, carrots, fresh herbs, preserves, biscuits, pantry tins, and the sort of shelves that make one feel proper explorers ought to carry a sturdy basket at all times.
Tilly likes The Grocer because it is impossible for her to behave quietly there. She giggles at the tomatoes, waves wildly at Mrs Sugden, and insists every basket contains “something wonderful.” Once she greeted a large cabbage as though it were a visiting dignitary, which was frightfully embarrassing.
Granny Maple bustles along with her basket, calling cheerful reminders such as “Stay where I can see you, dears!” while somehow also noticing wildflowers, waving to neighbours, and deciding the exact right spot for a picnic.
Sir Bark-A-Lot considers the park his official domain. He trots ahead, inspects every bench, chases after drifting leaves, stares at ducks as if he has direct questions for them, and once attempted to follow a picnic smell straight into a basket that did not belong to us. Mr Clegg said, quite kindly in his broad Yorkshire voice, “Nay lad, Bark-A-Lot just likes keeping hissen busy!”
What makes the park special is the queer and delightful feeling that something exciting may happen at any moment. There are ducklings to watch, treehouse paths to explore, shady places to sit, and waterfall views that make even Tilly pause for half a second.
Today’s Special: Duck Pond Walk, Treehouse Trail, and Waterfall View
Most Important Observation: Sir Bark-A-Lot should strictly not be allowed to conduct independent duck investigations.
Pickleberry Park
Park Keeper: Mr Wilfred Clegg
Pickleberry Park is looked after by Mr Wilfred Clegg, who knows every path, every duck, and probably every tree as well. He says the park must be enjoyed properly, which I believe means slowly, with open eyes and possibly a biscuit.
It is not a shop, but it is one of the most important places in Pickleberry Falls. There is a duck pond, a stone bridge, flower borders, a winding path, a treehouse trail, and grass quite suitable for picnics, pondering, and the observation of suspicious happenings.
Tilly is never calm in the park. She giggles at the ducks, waves wildly at the birds, dashes towards the bridge, and behaves as though every stepping stone has personally invited her to a grand adventure. She insists the ducks know her name.
I Thought I'd Introduce Everyone Properly.
Meet The Sparly's.
Sir-Bark-A-Lot 'Sparkly'
The Official Scribe & Chief Map-Reader
Age: 9 and ¾ (A perfectly respectable age for an explorer)
Distinguishing Features: Clean spectacles, a very reliable brass compass, and a slightly worried expression when things become untidy.
My Duties: I am the only member of this family who takes timetables seriously. I am in charge of reading the maps, decoding the ancient hieroglyphs, and recording everything properly in my secret blue diary. I prefer my holidays to be sensible, but as I am surrounded by people who love a muddle, it is my official duty to be an absolute brick and hold the team together when everything goes spectacularly wrong.
Matilda 'Tilly' Sparkly
The Chief Obstacle & Inspector of Purple Crayons
Age: 8 and a half (An age prone to extreme silliness)
Distinguishing Features: An orange life-jacket (which she insists on wearing for general safety), sticky fingers, and a most alarming giggle.
My Observations: Tilly is boundlessly curious, completely fearless, and altogether too loud. She treats giant stone pharaohs and fresh cream buns as if they are old school friends, and she has the frightful habit of raiding my secret diary when my back is turned. She specializes in leaving strawberry jam thumbprints in the margins and drawing purple crowns on my serious sketches. She calls our muddles "adventures," whereas I call them extremely worrying.
The Grand Marshal of Chaos
Age: A well-kept family secret (but possessing ancient wisdom)
Distinguishing Features: A bright floral sun-hat and an astonishingly spacious wicker basket. She can be seen with the red family album tucked under her arms most of the time.
My Observations: Granny Maple never simply walks anywhere—she bustles in with great purpose and a merry sort of joy. She is a master of top-secret cake negotiations and can carry twelve things in one basket without dropping a single tomato, which is a rather baffling feat. When a grand quest calls, Granny simply gives a playful wink, packs a mountain of apple pies, and commands us to fly across the world.
Granny Mabel 'Maple 'Sparkly
Maximilian 'Max' Sparkly
Captain of the Entire Expedition (Or so he firmly believes)
Breed: A tremendously serious terrier
Distinguishing Features: A highly expressive tail and a colourful patterned scarf.
My Observations: Sir Bark-A-Lot behaves as if he has been officially appointed Chief Structure and Crumb Inspector of the world. He approaches every single disaster with an immense amount of dignity. Whether he is conducting unauthorized duck investigations in the park or accidentally detonating a trader's spice cart into a cloud of pepper, he looks extraordinarily proud of himself. It is a scientific fact that he can smell a warm bun from half a village away.
Great Aunt Scherazade Sparkly
The Magical Storyteller
Age: Elegantly timeless, though older than Ariadne.
Distinguishing Features: Flowing sunset-coloured robes, silver rings on every finger, and a voice like a soft flute.
My Observations: When Aunt Scheherazade speaks, the entire room—and usually the passing wildlife—falls completely silent to listen. Her enchanting tales of hidden desert cities and star-maps make the real world feel utterly magical. She is a true weaver of legends, and she is the keeper of the mysterious iron key that she gave to me for safekeeping.
Great Aunt Rania Sparkly
The Calm One
Age: Somewhere comfortably in the middle.
Distinguishing Features: A beautifully flowing linen shawl and a wonderfully soothing voice.
My Observations: Aunt Rania floats through life like a swan on a glassy lake. While Tilly is screeching and Sir Bark-A-Lot is barking at his own reflection, Aunt Rania merely adjusts her shawl and smiles a beautiful, quiet smile. Her serene spirit is as steady and peaceful as the flowing Nile, and she has the clever knack of making a frantic muddle feel like a very pleasant afternoon tea party.
Great Aunt Jasmine
The Fun One
Age: Just on the younger side of the middle bracket.
Distinguishing Features: A complete whirlwind of silver bells, bright silken scarves, and tapping shoes.
My Observations: Aunt Jasmine treats every ordinary afternoon like a splendid summer festival, and it is entirely impossible to remain grumpy around her for long. She is always the first to clap her hands, join in a local dance, or encourage Tilly to make a magnificent rumpus on the rugs. She firmly believes that rules are mostly there to be turned into silly games.
Great Aunt Helen Sparkly
The Passionate Egyptologist
Age: Right in the prime of her historical career.
Distinguishing Features: Perfectly pressed safari wear, a magnifying glass, and a notebook full of architectural sketches.
My Observations: Aunt Helen has an absolute mountain of enthusiasm for old ruins. She doesn't just study history; she talks directly to the ancient monuments as if they are old family friends, and she knows the secret mechanics behind the heaviest stones. Her passion is tremendously catching, and she is the one who explained to me that big rocks with faces are actually ways for people to live forever.
Great Aunt Genevieve Sparkly
The Wise One
Age: Respectably advanced in years and scholarship.
Distinguishing Features: Thick tortoise-shell spectacles, a very sharp pencil, and smudges of library ink.
My Observations: Aunt Genevieve travels with a small mountain of leather-bound reference books. She can read ancient, dusty inscriptions on crumbling walls as easily as if they were yesterday's morning newspaper. She knows the secret names of old kings and the dates of every great battle, making her a first-rate guide, even if she does occasionally forget where she put her tea mug.
Great Aunt Cleo Sparkly
The Brave One
Age: Senior to the others, making her the formidable commander of the sisters.
Distinguishing Features: Practical khaki trousers, binoculars, and a booming laugh that can stop a runaway donkey.
My Observations: Aunt Cleo is an absolute brick of a woman who is completely unafraid of anything with teeth, stingers, or bad manners. She can handle the grumpiest, most bad-tempered camels in the desert without blinking an eye. She is precisely the person you want by your side if you ever find yourself facing a swarm of angry hornets or a fierce desert windstorm.
Great Aunt Ariadne Sparkly
The Dreamy Artist
Age: The absolute youngest of all the sisters (she looks remarkably youthful in the family photos).
Distinguishing Features: A messy smock, charcoal-stained fingers, and dollops of bright emerald and turquoise paint in her hair like tiny jewels.
My Observations: Aunt Ariadne is a gentle, creative soul who is far more interested in the "vibe" and spiritual beauty of a place than its official mathematical measurements. She sees the world entirely through sweeps and swirls of colour rather than straight lines. She is the one who taught me that deep, smudgy shadows can tell a beautiful story just as well as the brightest light.
Admiral Whisker 'Sparkly'
The Sovereign of the Sitting Room
Breed: An extremely dignified grey-and-white feline
Distinguishing Features: Fluffy fur, a grand expression, and a rather important naval air.
My Observations: Admiral Whiskers does not simply enter a room—he arrives. He appears to firmly believe he is the supreme commander of all suitcases, sitting rooms, expeditions, and biscuits. He is often found sitting directly inside open luggage to block our packing, guarding suspicious snacks, or staring at everyone as if we have failed an important test. He looks mildly offended by the general behaviour of children, and though I suspect he has appointed himself Expedition Leader, this has strictly not been officially agreed upon.
My Final Warning: Please ensure your sturdiest boots are securely laced before reading further. Traveling with this lot is a most astonishing business, but I must admit... it is altogether scrumptious!
Max’s Journal of the Expedition
This is my journal, and it is extremely important. Inside it I keep all my Proper Expedition Notes, secret clues, maps, sketches, stickers, ticket stubs, suspicious paw prints, biscuit crumbs, and observations of the highest importance. I write down everything I see, suspect, discover, and occasionally get muddled about — especially when Granny Maple gives one of her mysterious winks, Tilly finds a clue before I have even sharpened my pencil, or Sir Bark-A-Lot begins inspecting something that is almost certainly not official evidence. My journal is part diary, part explorer’s notebook, and part splendid secret map — and if you look very carefully, you may find the next adventure hiding inside.