The House at Pooh Corner

Dedication

You gave me Christopher Robin, and then
You breathed new life in Pooh.
Whatever of each has left my pen
Goes homing back to you.
My book is ready, and comes to greet
The mother it longs to see—
It would be my present to you, my sweet,
If it weren’t your gift to me.

Contradiction

An introduction is to introduce people, but Christopher Robin and his friends, who have already been introduced to you, are now going to say Goodbye. So this is the opposite. When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an Introduction was, he said “The what of a what?” which didn’t help us as much as we had hoped, but luckily Owl kept his head and told us that the opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that that’s what it is.

Why we are having a Contradiction is because last week when Christopher Robin said to me, “What about that story you were going to tell me about what happened to Pooh when—” I happened to say very quickly, “What about nine times a hundred and seven?” And when we had done that one, we had one about cows going through a gate at two a minute, and there are three hundred in the field, so how many are left after an hour and a half? We find these very exciting, and when we have been excited quite enough, we curl up and go to sleep … and Pooh, sitting wakeful a little longer on his chair by our pillow, thinks Grand Thoughts to himself about Nothing, until he, too, closes his eyes and nods his head, and follows us on tiptoe into the Forest. There, still, we have magic adventures, more wonderful than any I have told you about; but now, when we wake up in the morning, they are gone before we can catch hold of them. How did the last one begin? “One day when Pooh was walking in the Forest, there were one hundred and seven cows on a gate. …” No, you see, we have lost it. It was the best, I think. Well, here are some of the other ones, all that we shall remember now. But, of course, it isn’t really Goodbye, because the Forest will always be there … and anybody who is Friendly with Bears can find it.

I

In Which a House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore

One day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglet’s house to see what Piglet was doing. It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track, and he expected to find Piglet warming his toes in front of his fire, but to his surprise he saw that the door was open, and the more he looked inside the more Piglet wasn’t there.

“He’s out,” said Pooh sadly. “That’s what it is. He’s not in. I shall have to go a fast Thinking Walk by myself. Bother!”

But first he thought that he would knock very loudly just to make quite sure … and while he waited for Piglet not to answer, he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a Good Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others.

The more it snows
(Tiddely pom),
The more it goes
(Tiddely pom),
The more it goes
(Tiddely pom),
On snowing.
And nobody knows
(Tiddely pom),
How cold my toes
(Tiddely pom),
How cold my toes
(Tiddely pom),
Are growing.

“So what I’ll do,” said Pooh, “is I’ll do this. I’ll just go home first and see what the time is, and perhaps I’ll put a muffler round my neck, and then I’ll go and see Eeyore and sing it to him.”

He hurried back to his own house; and his mind was so busy on the way with the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting in his best armchair, he could only stand there rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in.

“Hallo, Piglet,” he said. “I thought you were out.”

“No,” said Piglet, “it’s you who were out, Pooh.”

“So it was,” said Pooh. “I knew one of us was.”

He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.

“Nearly eleven o’clock,” said Pooh happily. “You’re just in time for a little smackerel of something,” and he put his head into the cupboard. “And then we’ll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore.”

“Which song, Pooh?”

“The one we’re going to sing to Eeyore,” explained Pooh.

The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven when Pooh and Piglet set out on their way half an hour later. The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh’s nose and sometimes it wasn’t, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.

“Pooh,” he said at last, and a little timidly, because he didn’t want Pooh to think he was Giving In, “I was just wondering. How would it be if we went home now and practised your song, and then sang it to Eeyore tomorrow—or—or the next day, when we happen to see him?”

“That’s a very good idea, Piglet,” said Pooh. “We’ll practise it now as we go along. But it’s no good going home to practise it, because it’s a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.”

“Are you sure?” asked Piglet anxiously.

“Well, you’ll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom—”

“Tiddely what?” said Piglet.

“Pom,” said Pooh. “I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more—”

“Didn’t you say snows?”

“Yes, but that was before.”

“Before the tiddely pom?”

“It was a different tiddely pom,” said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. “I’ll sing it to you properly and then you’ll see.”

So he sang it again.

The more it
Snows-tiddely-pom,
The more it
Goes-tiddely-pom
The more it
Goes-tiddely-pom
On
Snowing.

And nobody
Knows-tiddely-pom,
How cold my
Toes-tiddely-pom
How cold my
Toes-tiddely-pom
Are
Growing.