It was another bright and sunny day in the top left hand corner of Wales when Ivor the Engine woke. Idris the dragon was still sound asleep as Ivor crept out to drink his early morning cup of Earl Grey in the yard. No doubt Idris the dragon would wake soon enough and start talking but Ivor was determined to be as quiet as possible in order to put off that fateful moment. He knew, you see, that once the bloody dragon started talking nothing but sleep would shut her up and she was unlikely to sleep again until very late at night. Last night Ivor had simply given up the unequal struggle and gone to bed, taking a good book and his trusty transistor wireless with him but Idris still kept talking. She was still talking, though Ivor had no idea to whom or about what, when Ivor closed his eyes, pulled the covers over his head and started to snore. Frankly he didn't care what the stupid dragon was babbling on about, he just wanted the droning on and on to stop.
It isn't that Ivor really dislikes Idris the Dragon, far from it, but the incessant talking does get on his tits from time to time so he savours such stolen moments of peace as he manages to find in the very early mornings when there is nothing but the gentle murmur of the central heating boiler and the song of a friendly blackbird to intrude on his thoughts.
