Dear Grandma,

You must promise not to faint when you read this. In fact, sit down first. Ready? Good.

Whilst on my way to post my weekly letter to you, I discovered the most extraordinary thing: a giraffe wearing my yellow scarf — the one you knitted for me — wrapped proudly around its impossibly long neck.

Yes. A giraffe.

It was nibbling leaves outside the post office as calmly as if this sort of thing happened every Tuesday. Crunch. Chew. Swallow. People stared. One man dropped his newspaper. I just stood there, pointing at my scarf swaying in the breeze.

As you know, I adore giraffes, so I crept closer. Its eyelashes fluttered like tiny paintbrushes. Its eyes were warm and golden, like pools of honey.

Without warning, it bent its enormous neck and — whoosh! — flicked me onto its back.

Before I could even squeak, it began to gallop. The wind roared in my ears and tugged at my hair. Houses shrank like toy bricks. Roads twisted like ribbons behind us.

We raced beyond the town and into wide, shimmering grasslands where acacia trees stretched towards the sky. Other giraffes lifted their heads as if I were part of their herd.

At last, mine knelt gently and lowered me down. Then, as if it understood everything, it bent once more so I could climb back on.

In a blink, we were racing home again. Soon the post office came into view, perfectly ordinary, as if nothing magical had happened at all.

The giraffe dipped its head, returned my scarf, and trotted away.

Some adventures begin with a missing scarf.

Love always,

Lilly x