Short, bitter thread from an irate woman, age 49 and a bit. This 👇 is not a fairy tale. This 👇 is how historiography starts bastardising the truth about war. 1/
It may make for great viewing, and the saccharine treatment of any unpleasantness is an aide to swallowing bitter pills of reality and educating a new generation - that's true - but Dahl and Potter did *not* have an intimate, fluffy, sweet little encounter. 2/
God love her, Ma French is a national treasure but this could be me right now. I despair, I do. The analogy with errant historiography is worthy of a PhD.

"Oh no, it's much *nicer* to tell *this* story, because that's what people *like* to hear... (paging @lukedalygroves )" 3/
What happened is this: yes, Dahl was take up to the Lake District, and yes, he visited Potter's farm.

But grumpy-woman's response to, "I've come to see Beatrix Potter," was, "Well, now you've seen her. Bugger off."

Much more like Mr McGregor. In the garden. With his gun.4/
Is it me? It's not me. This "oh let's make a story all fluffy so people have a nice time with a version of a portion of what might possibly have been close to the truth..." - this is how war myths start. (Paging @lukedalygroves)

This - THIS 👇 - is more likely than 👆 that: /5
And don't get me started on Welsh Bloke. Quote: "Roald's books just fly off the page."

BOOKS DO NOT FLY OFF THE PAGE, YOU SOGGY LEEK.

At most, words might have a metaphorical bash at it. Books - books - books *sit*, on a bookshelf. /6
Finally, can we all just bear in mind that Mr Bailey (he of the bridges), *may* have been a good fit for the BFG, but now - now - there's an entire generation that may never discover this. 👇 Which is a travesty.

I'm going to go and calm down for a bit. /ends
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