This one started with a Paul Waugh tweet:
The link would take you to a BBC web-site with David Laws doing a interview with school students.
And why not?
To be honest (something Laws wasn’t over his expenses), the teddy-bear’s name question is:
- a terrific idea for an interview;
- as good a way to humanise a politician (or any other figure) as comes along.
So, to join the fun, and win brownie points, mine (not just first, but only) was boringly “Teddy”.
The rest is a bit different.
Teddy-bears, new, were not a readily-attainable consumer item as the Second World War moved on after Alamein to complete the conquest of North Africa. I adopted Uncle Derrick’s cast-off.
He was a previously well-loved and well-worn specimen, presumably from a couple of decades earlier. His limbs were loose, so my mother sewed them back on. His paws were even more threadbare than the rest of him, so she made cut-outs from yellow dusters, and sewed those as well.
He was in due course discarded into the toy-box (my grand-father’s old cabin-trunk), and his later whereabouts remain unknown. Three daughters later, he could well be in the attic, in one of the many boxes of soft toys we seem still to be lumbered with.
The cabin trunk lives on
It occupies a corner of the Pert Young Piece’s bedroom, packed with her complete (I believe) collection of annual Harrods’ teddies, plus Ellis (a skinny, gingery, super-hirsute and rather frightening beastie).