Five have a safe, sensible time.

I dreamed I wrote this blog post, so here it is:

Once upon a time, there were three children called Julian, Dick and Anne. One summer, they went to stay with their cousin, George. They played in the garden, with George's dog, Timmy. Sometimes, if Aunt Fanny was there to look after them, they went to the beach. In the distance, there was an island. "Maybe I'll go there one day," said George. 
The end.

I have such profound dreams. 

It was possibly because I've been re-reading Shirley Hughes' autobiography, and she comments that modern publishers tend to make books about real-world children (as opposed to fantasy) very tame, for fear of giving children ideas.