The Island of Marmura is small, round and flat, and that's why it's so easy to move.
But for as long as anyone who lives there can remember, it's bobbed around the North Sea, bumping into Scotland, then bumping into Ireland. When the islanders really want to move quickly, perhaps to avoid a huge wave, or a sharp rock, they grab their enormous paddles, gather along the beaches and all paddle together, as fast as they can, until they've propelled the island to a different part of the ocean, where they drop anchor and stay until the next huge wave comes along.
That's the most important thing you need to know about Marmura, the other thing is that it is always raining.
One particularly grey, drizzly day, a small boy said to his mother: 'Why it is never sunny here? I want to go somewhere sunny. We can move our island wherever we want, so why don't we just go somewhere else?'
At first his mother was shocked, then she thought about it, then she told her neighbour. At first the neighbour was shocked, then he thought about it, then he told his brother, and so on, until finally everyone on the island was in agreement; they were fed up with rain! They were going South!
Many days and nights passed, and the islanders' arms ached from so much paddling. The sea was wide and empty, and they had not met another soul, but to their delight the rain had almost stopped. Then, on the fifth day, somewhere off Spain, they met another island, this one long and thin and rocky, being rowed toward them by hundreds of small people wearing large hats.
'We're heading North,' cried the other islanders in unison. 'It's far too hot where we come from, and it's always too dry. Where are you going?'
What a stroke of luck! The islanders swapped clothes, traded their umbrellas for suntan lotion and firelighters for fans, bade each other farewell and bon voyage, and waved happily until each island was a tiny speck on the horizon, then disappeared.