Sometimes I think I am entering a second childhood.
When my sister and I were children, she was a big fan of soft toys. She always felt sorry for them, languishing on the shelves of shops with no cuddles, and begged to be allowed to bring them home to love.
I, however, felt no such need – because I had Ted.
Ted was, and is, my dad’s old bear, bought brand new for my dad when he was a baby in 1931. No other soft toy was anywhere near as “real” as Ted was to me.
Ted was magic, I knew. Proper magic. He read my thoughts, and understood everything. I knew this as a child with a certainty that has infused few other things in my life – and I loved Ted with all of my small being. Despite my piggling out his Chad Valley ear stud, and scribbling on his velvety paws with a biro.
Ted accompanied me to bed every night, even on sleepovers. When my Nanna got ill, I bargained with him: make her well, even if it means using up all of your magic to do it. And he did. And although I knew that after that he wasn’t magic any more, because he’d used it all up, I still loved him. Because he’d sacrificed his magic for me.
But love for toys, in the way my sister and I felt it back then, fell by the wayside upon departing childhood.
Until the other day, that is.
I spotted this little fellow in Hopkinson, Nottingham’s biggest and best antiques / vintage / junk mecca. I had just finished arranging an emergency dental appointment nearby after breaking a tooth and went there afterwards to cheer myself up.
The thing that cheered me up the most was found in the damp basement, a place filled with a strange and wonderful mix of industrial lighting; small, mostly broken things; ornaments, furniture, clothing and a pervasive smell of mould. It was no place for a small, hand knitted sausage dog with button eyes. I felt so instantly sorry for him that I just had to bring him home.
I can only speculate as to who made him, for whom, and how he came to be where he was. As yet, he has no name. Suggestions welcomed.
I do hope he has been loved by a child, properly, as I once loved Ted. I can’t promise that for him, but I can at least make him a new collar, freshen him up a bit and let him sit in a warm house, surrounded by fabric and dolls in various stages of manufacture.
He will get cuddles.
Perhaps it’s not really surprising to want to return to a time when there was nothing to worry about because there were parents to do all the worrying for me. A time when there was only happiness.
And if a small knitted sausage dog, costing a mere £2.50, can help conjure up some of that feeling, maybe a second childhood isn’t such a bad place to be headed, after all. ♥
I can certainly see why he had to come home with you! He’s quite adorable, and I look forward to seeing him again once you’ve spruced him up!
I did think about giving him some new eyes, as the current ones look a bit “dead” to me… but I don’t think I could risk destroying his character by doing so. I’m going to stick to just a new collar.
I had a toy dog with button eyes and it was the same problem. My mother got past that by stitching smaller dark buttons on top of the original ones, and suddenly, my puppy could look at me!
One Christmas when my son was about 5 or 6 we were shopping at a salvage store and Joel found a cheap stuffed animal(actually stuffed with straw) and got very teary because he was sure no one would take him home for Christmas and he would have to spend it in the cold dark store. Needless to say, we took it home.
My brother had a bear, Tom Ed, probably purchased around 1950. He was killed in an accident when we were teens and now Tom Ed has a seat of honor in my doll cabinet. He is very dear to me. I offer “Tom Ed” as a name.
Thank you Kathy. Tom Ed is a great name.
Cute! I love the memories he conjured up in you!
I know exactly how you feel, and strangely I feel the same about unloved houses, I pass them and dream about how I can put love back in them, nurture them, spruce them up and put lovely warm people inside.
To nurture is to love.
I agree – and I share your feelings about unloved houses. Our elderly neighbour moved into residential care after Christmas, and her house was sold. It is lovely seeing our new neighbours, a couple in their twenties who are getting married at the end of June, put the love back into a house that, one by one, lost all it’s previous family. Definitely worth the all the noise from the renovations x
I think he’s lovely, and I would call him Sausage! At the age of 43 and three quarters I am unashamed to say that I sleep between my husband and my teddy. Brown Ted has been with me since I was born, and I’m sure he will never give me up or let me down. And he’s still wearing the polka dot waistcoat I made for him when I was 7.
I stupidly sent my (admittedly very shabby) Ted to a restorer about 20 years ago. I really wish I hadn’t, he over-stuffed his snout and his expression changed forever as a result 🙁
He’s gorgeous!