He looked round to see if he had forgotten anything and saw a big black Stag beetle on the window sill. This was his pet beetle Boris, and the Old Codger thought he would like to see the seaside, so he picked him up and put him into his pocket.

He finished off his packing with a piece of string tied round the suitcase to keep it shut. Now that he was ready he began to feel quite excited, almost as excited as when one of his pumpkins won the funniest face prize at the annual garden show. Everyone except the Old Codger knew he won because his turnip [pumpkin] looked just as miserable as he did.

The Old Codger picked up his suitcase and stepped out of the shed that he called his home and turned towards town. The sun was shining and he felt more cheerful than he could remember. “Good morning Mr. Jones,” he said to the owner of the neighbouring allotment who was tending his leeks.

Mr. Jones did not recognise the voice, yet when he turned round he could only  see the Old Codger. For a moment he thought someone else must also be there because the Old Codger never said “Good morning”; if he said anything it was a grumpy groan like “Grmmph!”, but there was no one else to be seen and therefore it must have come from the Old Codger. “Oh! Good morning”, he said hesitantly, in case it really was some kids playing a trick.

“I’m going to Blackpool on holiday”, continued the Old Codger. “How lovely”, said Mr. Jones not quite sure what to say, “but don’t worry I’ll look after your leeks while you’re away”.

Suddenly the Old Codger’s cheerfulness slipped away and his gruffness returned. “Don’t touch my leeks”, he said sharply, “I know you, you’ll stamp on them or stunt them so yours will win at the show”. “I won’t, I promise”, said Mr. Jones.

The Old Codger did not believe him and thought about calling off the holiday to guard his leeks, but then he thought of a plan to protect them. When Mr. Jones was not looking he picked up an old football lying behind his shed and went up onto the roof.