It was probably in the summer of 2006 this poem came to me. It was the day of our village fayre. There is one every year and it grows bigger and bigger each time. The green was festooned with stalls of cakes and games and second-hand books and bric-a-brac and awash with chitter-chattering of excited children. One attraction had been added this year - a bouncy castle! It was about 50p ago and the queue wound down and across by the pool. Everyone under the age of ten wanted a go and some over that age, too. Everyone queuing strictly observed the no sharp objects sign except one small girl who had spotted a loop hole.

"It doesn't say anything against crowns!" she announced, pulling her plastic crown further over her eyes until it touched her nose. Her mother struggled with her little princess who was determined to retain her crown for the duration of her bounce. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing her mother managed to snatch the crown just as her little princess stepped into her castle and bounced and bounced away.

And so into my mind, almost fully formed, dropped the idea of a bouncy princess living in a bouncy castle who was determined to get her own way...