Vera Verb - The early years

It was morning. Vera Verb leapt out of bed and bounded across the room. She threw open the window, breathed in deeply, ran on the spot for a couple of minutes, jumped up and down for another couple, and cartwheeled into the bathroom.

Vera was awake.

In the room next door, Mr and Mrs Verb groaned. Another day of Vera loomed ahead of them. Another day of Vera doing things.

They knew they should really be proud of her. It was only natural for a member of the Verb family to be a doer. Mr and Mrs Verb were both doers themselves - busy, active people - as their parents had been before them.

But their daughter Vera had taken doing things to extremes. She was on the go all the time, every moment of the day. Mr and Mrs Verb were nearing breaking point.

"Can you hear her, Vernon?" whispered Mrs Verb.

"Yes, Veronica," replied Mr Verb. "She's brushing her teeth, washing her face, scrubbing behind her ears and singing. All at the same time."

They heard Vera hurtle down the stairs and somersault into the kitchen. Then she boiled the kettle, burnt the toast, fed the cat, walked the dog, practised the violin and wrote a poem. All at the same time.

"We must do something about it, Vernon," said Mrs Verb. "I can't stand it any longer."

"Yes, Veronica," said Mr Verb decisively. "I think the time has come to act."

Later that day, Mr and Mrs Verb took Vera to see the doctor. She had a lovely time doing all the tests - opening her mouth and saying "Ah", breathing in and holding her breath, standing up, lying down, running on the spot, touching her toes and sticking out her tongue. The doctor had never seen anyone do all these things simultaneously before.

He told Mr and Mrs Verb that Vera was hyperactive and that she shouldn't have too many E-numbers in future. Mr and Mrs Verb threw away all the orange squash in the house and became frantic readers of packaging, but it didn't seem to make much difference. Vera still did things all the time.

"Vernon," said Mrs Verb, "that doctor hasn't cured Vera."

"I know, Veronica," said Mr Verb. "We shall have to think of something else."

A few days later, Mr and Mrs Verb took Vera to see a hypnotist. He swung a gold watch in front of her eyes and put her into a trance.

"You are feeling very tired," he told Vera. "Your eyes are getting heavy. You are in a deep sleep." And to Mr and Mrs Verb's delight, Vera fell asleep.

They were thrilled. They took her home and tucked her up in bed and went for a quiet sit-down for the first time in ten years.

But it didn't last long.

Within five minutes, Vera had started to sleep-walk.

Within six minutes, she had started to sleep-jump.

Within seven minutes, she was sleep-singing, sleep-dancing, sleep-hopping, sleep-skipping and sleep-skateboarding.

Mr and Mrs Verb took her back to the hypnotist to have her woken up. They preferred her with her eyes open.

"Vernon," said Mrs Verb.

"Yes, Veronica?" said Mr Verb.

"There's only one thing for it. We shall have to get in touch with your uncle."

"You mean, my Uncle Verbiswami, back in India?"

"Yes," said Mrs Verb. "I think he's the only one who can help us now."

So Mr and Mrs Verb wrote a letter to Uncle Verbiswami, asking him over for a holiday, and a few weeks later he arrived.

He took one look at Vera, who was pedalling round the garden on her bike, juggling three oranges and balancing a fruit bowl on her head, and said, "That girl is doing too much."

"Yes," said Mr and Mrs Verb. "We rather hoped you might be able to calm her down a little."

"Leave it to me," said Uncle Verbiswami, and he beckoned to Vera. "Come, child. It is time you learned To Be."

Uncle Verbiswami knew all the mysteries of the East. He gave Vera lessons in Being for three days. At the end of that time, he called in her parents and showed them how she was progressing.

Vera was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with her hands clasped in front of her. She was perfectly still. There was a slight smile on her lips and she was humming softly.

"Hello, mother. Hello, father," she said to her parents. "Look at me. I AM."

"Yes," breathed her parents, smiling gratefully at Uncle Verbiswami. "Yes, our dear little Vera Verb. For the first time in your life, you just ARE."

And she was.

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