When I'm telling a fairytale, I like to update it, give it a bit of feminism, a bit less murder, a lot less Amanda Seygfried.. So I was glad to trample all over the brothers Grimm on my way to Rotherhithe for breakfast the other day.
Once upon a time, a very un-streetwise young woman wondered sleepily right out of the East and tumbled into a very nice flat in the Rotherhithe resort, quite unknown territory. And who should the poor quaking flower find there?
Yes, more purr than grr aren't they? They were cooking up a storm for their breakfast but didn't mind little Blackilocks tucking in with them. They gave her some pajamas so she could fit into soft sleepy land and served her up a feast washed down by Le Creuset pots of tea.
They were just her kind of bears!
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