Born in Pretoria in South Africa, I currently live in Ireland.
I was a primary school teacher for over 15 years. My role as a
teacher allowed me to utilize my love of creative activities
such as art, embroidery and crafts of all description and I
loved being able to work with children in developing both their
talents and their characters by encouraging their use of
Manon for being in the 2012 Preditors and Editors top ten
Children's Books Category for Lucy's Dreams, top ten
Artwork and Book Cover Art categories, also for
Lucy's Dreams and
2013 Finalist in Artwork Category for
Sirion and Memoirs of a Jobseeker.
New Title(s) from Manon Daniels
Click on the thumbnail(s) above to learn more about the book(s) listed.
|Lucy lives at Sutton Manor House with her parents, brothers,
sisters and family pets. Lucy is a dreamer and in her dreams she
visits the most extraordinary places and meets the most
fantastic creatures and people. Her family, whom she regales
with her funny stories, revel in the knowledge that Lucy lights
up their days and nights with her incredible dream adventures.
Word Count: 7776
Pages to Print: 53
File Format: PDF
I am Lucy and I am 8 years old. I live in a big, rambling, old
house with my mom, dad, three brothers, two sisters, two dogs;
Charlie the terrier and Arnolf the German Shepherd, and a big,
lazy cat named Mr. Pebble. Our home is called Sutton Manor
House. It belonged to my dad’s family for years and years, so
it’s full of history. We have loads of fun playing in the house
with its many passages, and in the big forest around the garden.
Daddy is an engineer and does carpentry for a hobby. He has his
own toy factory and all the toys are made from wood. Daddy makes
the most beautiful toys and everyone wants to buy them. Mommy is
our mommy. She is always with us. She makes us girls beautiful
dresses and lovely cakes for our birthdays. Daddy says Mommy is
the prettiest mommy in the world. Mommy always smiles and sings
soft little tunes, but if we don’t behave she can be quite
Thomas is the eldest of us children, and he is 16. He’s the
smart one. He always gets good reports from school. His teacher
says it’s because he works hard. Next comes Lawrence, who is 14.
He’s going to be an engineer. He’s always taking things apart
and then putting them all together again. He also loves to
invent new things. Michael is 11 and very good at sports. He can
run faster than any boy in his grade. I am next. Mommy says I’m
the world’s biggest dreamer. I love to read books and look at
pictures of magical places. Amy is two years younger than me.
She loves to hear all about my wonderful dreams. Becky is the
smallest. She is only three, but there is a lot of her. She is
noisy, messy and such a cross-patch. I think it is because we
I day-dream and I night-dream. In the day my dreams are my own.
At night when I fall asleep, my wild imaginings take shape in
weird and fantastical happenings.
I rushed home from school and found my mom in the kitchen,
preparing our lunch.
“Mommy,” I called out excitedly, “Mrs. Cherry is doing uniform
inspection at school tomorrow. She says that we must be clean
and smart, and she doesn’t want to see a spot of dirt, and my
hair must be tidy and my nails clean and cut. We’ll get into
awful trouble if we’re not spotless!”
Mommy smiled and nodded.
“Go and change and put your uniform into the machine,” she said.
“We’ll get it all ready for tomorrow.”
I sped up the stairs to the bedroom I share with Amy, pulled off
the soiled uniform and changed into a play dress, and then I ran
down again, jumping down two steps at a time, rushed into the
laundry and pushed the washing into the machine.
“Mommy, may I switch it on?” I asked, feeling very grown up.
“Yes, but measure the soap carefully the way I showed you
I took a scoop of washing powder from the box and carefully
poured it into the soap dispenser. Then I selected the right
washing program, as Mommy had shown me, and pushed the start
button feeling very pleased with myself for being so clever. I
pulled up a bench and sat for a few moments listening to the
sound of the water pouring into the machine. I closed my eyes
and imagined all the pretty little bubbles forming . . .