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It sounds like the type ofA  discovery that one of her Famous Five characters might have made.
The manuscript was not recognised as an unpublished novel at first because it has almost the same name as a book of cartoon strips Miss Blyton published in 1949, called Tumpy and His Caravan.But a closer look revealed that not only was it a complete novel, but the story was also different.
The views expressed in the contents above are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline. During my first few years on this earth, I lived in a huge wooden house near the Rejang River.
Before the days of express boats, going to Sibu for holidays meant a two to three hours’ journey by motor launch such as Sin Bintang or Sin Hai Cheng (these are just my guesstimate of their names). The huge wooden house in which I was born was home to a very extended family comprising of my own family as well as those of my paternal uncles. I can remember the days when I played hopscotch and marbles with my friends in the back lanes. And how can I ever forget the games of hide-and-seek and cops-and-robbers that we used to play?
Ships like MV Rajah Mas, MV Pulau Kijang and MV Soon Bee transited in Binatang on their way to Kuching.
And it is impossible for me to forget the perils of living in Binatang in those days when communism was a big issue. Another thrill was watching the occasional  free movies (mostly cowboy movies) and cartoon shows at the open field in front of the Binatang District Council building. As I compare my childhood to the childhood of kids nowadays, I feel that I am truly lucky to have such a fun childhood. A long-forgotten yellowed manuscript, which had spent decades gathering dust, has been identified as a previously unseen novel by Enid Blyton. How does the fact that she and gretchen exchange smiles after the race indicate that Squeaky has changed.
I just hardly had anything to care or worry about, had almost no duties and problems, and simply could hang out with my friends all day long.
He worked hard all his life and I can understand his yearning for another daughter.  I am the father of 2 sons and I always envy my friends who have daughters. These motor launches chugged slowly along the Rejang River affording us great views of the river and its banks. In those days, the river was clean and my mum washed our clothes in the back of the house using the water from the river. I don’t know how the name came about but we used to refer to these rubber slippers as “Jepun air tua” (Japanese slippers). I was quite good at playing marbles, often winning such a big pocketful of marbles that my shorts seemed to be dragged down by the weight of the marbles. In those days, there was little or no traffic, so Wharf Road and its back lanes and the vicinity were our playground. If we happened to be swimming in the river when these ships berthed at the wharf, we liked to show off our diving and somersaulting skills to the passengers on the ships. As my dad’s shop was only two doors away from Chop Seng Kee, I could buy kompians hot from the furnace. I loved to go there to look for the latest book arrivals, to buy the weekly Borneo Bulletin or the monthly Dolphin magazine. The weekly paper usually arrived in Binatang on Saturday and I always felt restless until I got hold of it every week.

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Titled Mr Tumpya€™s Caravan, the 180-page story tells the tale of a magical caravan and the travels of its inhabitants. It turns out that this is about a completely different Mr Tumpy and indeed a completely different caravan.a€™Miss Blyton developed dementia in her later years, and Mrs Smallwood believes the story could have been written towards the end of her life due to the a€?clumsya€™ style. I think I am probably the first person, certainly in a very long time, to have read the whole thing.a€?Ita€™s quite a surreal book, but very funny and very entertaining. As I look back at my childhood in Binatang (now known as Bintangor), I am overwhelmed by nostalgia and fond reminiscence of those almost care-free days.
Fate has endowed me with 2 wonderful sons and I bear no grudges against Almighty God for not blessing me with a daughter. Some of my classmates often joked about my dad, saying that he was an iconic figure in Binatang due to the fact that he usually moved around the town bare chested.
Our toys include things like rubber bands, bottle caps, self-made kites, marbles and catapults. As soon as my hair got a bit long (which was still short compared to my classmates’ hair), my dad would ask me to go for a haircut. I can always remember the thrill of reeling in my fishing line with a fish at the end of the line.
My eldest brother has always been an avid reader and a lot of his favourite authors ended up being my favourite authors too.
And during my lower secondary days at Kai Chung, I became a part-time contributor of news articles about Binatang to Borneo Bulletin.
Remember the horrors of people being assassinated by the communists on suspicions that they were government informants? I got a mail from my pen pal in New Zealand who had sent me some small pieces of New Zealand timber as a souvenir. A The childrena€™s author, who has sold 500million copies of books including the Secret Seven and Malory Towers series, was not known to have any unpublished material.
And very original, as a lot of her fantasy novels were.a€™Miss Blyton died in 1968, aged 71, but updated and reprinted versions of her most popular stories are still selling 8million copies a year. My grandma dotted on her grandchildren, making sure we ate well and treating us to a lot of movies. My dad was reputed to be the best outboard engine repair man in Binatang at that time, with a lot of Iban people seeking his service.
I dreaded the time when Iban customers wanted to buy kasam babi when I was helping to tend my dad’s shop. The house is no longer in existence, a victim of erosion of the river banks brought about in large parts by waves from the express boats plying the Rejang River.
Fortunately my dad was nearby and he jumped into the river and plucked me from what might have became my watery grave. And a lot of girls in those days loved playing a type of game with stones but I can’t remember the name of the game. Or the people you know joining the communist movement and getting themselves killed in clashes with government forces? But the find was made when a haul of her belongings was sold following the death of her eldest daughter, Gillian Baverstock. At night, we slept on the wooden deck of the ship and I could hear the engine chugging away as well as the sound of waves.

When they reached Binatang, they berthed their sampans at the river banks before going to the shops to get the 4-wheel carts to unload their oranges. I was never good at fishing for prawns but my third brother Chin Sien and some of my friends were very adept at it. I also read the Chinese romance novels that my sister bought though my command of Mandarin was not great. And the fees that I earned from my articles were quite a nice tidy sum for a young kid then. While studying at St Augustine Primary School, I remembered one occasion when the communists painted huge communist slogans on the front walls of St Augustine’s  Church.
I can always remember Lily Chan’s parents as they were the ones selling tickets at the theatre. It was evident that someone at the post office had opened my letter thinking that there was something worth stealing.
When I was born, I guess my dad was so disappointed that his hope for another daughter had once again been dashed that he decided to give me away to a childless couple in Sibu without informing my mum.
The ship usually left Binatang at around 4.00 pm and stopped in Sarikei where we had our dinner. Oh yes, I think one of the motor launches was run by the father of my classmate Peter Wong who is the husband of Lim Mei Siang, another classmate of mine.
I had on more than one occasion knock my head against the wooden walkway when I did not leap far enough when executing a back somersault.
After he was done with the haircut, he would powdered my neck area so that the hair remnants could be easily removed.
But nowadays, my Mandarin has deteriorated to such a level that it would be like mission impossible if I am asked to read a Chinese novel.
I devoured her Famous Five and Secret Seven novels, fantasizing myself being part of the Famous Five and Secret Seven.
In Form 1 at Kai Chung, I received an anonymous letter from someone trying to recruit me to join the communist movement. I went back to our shop and told my brother Chin Kiong about it but by the time my brother went to the post office to complain, the gum had dried up and the post office staff denied ever opening the letter.
I trembled with fear and when I reached home after school, I passed the letter to my dad who burned the letter after reading it. It could have been rejected, deemed not good enough by the author or even just forgotten about by Miss Blyton, who famously claimed to churn out one book per week.
And a year or so later, I remembered the incident where many soldiers and the police came to Kai Chung and arrested one of the students for being a communist.
Once these windows were open, people just jostled to shove their hands through the windows with money tightly held in their fists.
You may sometimes end up with some light bruises on your hand, especially if you were buying the 50-cent tickets.

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