The BFG [antikvár]

MyBFG by Lucy Dahl When I was a child, every night at bedtime, my fatherc\v^ld pace back and forth in the httle tiny bedroom I shared with my older sister, Ophelia, and tell us wonderful stories of the BFG. We would , ^sit up in bed mesmerized by the tales of our BFG as ^ we sipped on our witch's potions, which my father always gave us to drink during our 'story', as he called it. The witch's potion was a delicious concoction that my father made us every evening at I bedtime, a combination of canned peaches or pears, milk and a few drops of either red, green or blue food colouring whizzed up in a blender to make a home-made milkshake-type drink. 'The witches dropped it off at the doorstep five minutes ago,' my father would tell us with convincing ar^ority, the same way he told us about our BFG who lived in a cave under the apple trees of our ^orclwd right next to our house. " Everything was magical, even the witch balls that