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» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.
Huggy Bear
I was given a teddy bear when I was three that I loved very much. His arms and legs were curled out in front of him and he had a mini bulldog clip affair in his back, which meant that he could grab onto your arm, or round the back of your neck, or wherever he was most comfortable. Because of this, I called him Huggy Bear. Needless to say, I took him everywhere.
When I was five, our family moved to Singapore, Huggy Bear in tow. As I grew older, my attachment to Huggy dwindled - running around the vast tropical undergrowth with your mates pretending to be Indiana Jones took over. I always knew he was around though, somehow looking after me.
When it came time to move back to England when I was ten, I realised as we were packing that I had no idea where Huggy was. I wasn't distraught as such, but very concerned that we might leave him behind. My mother however had come across him in the back of an old dusty cupboard, and so knew exactly where he was.
So she hatched a plan.
The plan was simple - she would feign ignorance as to his whereabouts, then reveal him later with a great flourish. Of course Huggy would never forget his best friend!
First though, she had to keep her secret, shaking he head sadly whenever I mentioned missing Huggy. She over-egged the pudding a bit though - one night, she told me a story in heart-breaking detail of Huggy waking up to an empty house, finding details of our flight and running to the airport to catch us. He'd get there just as the plane was taxiing down the runway, frantically pumping his legs after us as the plane gathered speed, "Wembley, wait!" he'd cry. "Wait for me! Come back!" But it would be too late - the plane would take off, leaving the little brown bear bereft on the tarmac. I was fighting back tears, but knew that my mum was only ribbing me because I was ten and too old to really care about a teddy bear. And of course she knew just where he was, and could imagine my face when she took him out of her handbag on the plane.
Except she forgot.
Huggy, for all I know, is still sitting forgotten in that dusty cupboard in Singapore. I've tried to imagine that some other child has found him and loved him as much as I did, and I take comfort from that, even if it isn't true.
Here's to you, Huggy, wherever you are.
*sniff*
(Sat 16th Aug 2008, 13:15, More)
Huggy Bear
I was given a teddy bear when I was three that I loved very much. His arms and legs were curled out in front of him and he had a mini bulldog clip affair in his back, which meant that he could grab onto your arm, or round the back of your neck, or wherever he was most comfortable. Because of this, I called him Huggy Bear. Needless to say, I took him everywhere.
When I was five, our family moved to Singapore, Huggy Bear in tow. As I grew older, my attachment to Huggy dwindled - running around the vast tropical undergrowth with your mates pretending to be Indiana Jones took over. I always knew he was around though, somehow looking after me.
When it came time to move back to England when I was ten, I realised as we were packing that I had no idea where Huggy was. I wasn't distraught as such, but very concerned that we might leave him behind. My mother however had come across him in the back of an old dusty cupboard, and so knew exactly where he was.
So she hatched a plan.
The plan was simple - she would feign ignorance as to his whereabouts, then reveal him later with a great flourish. Of course Huggy would never forget his best friend!
First though, she had to keep her secret, shaking he head sadly whenever I mentioned missing Huggy. She over-egged the pudding a bit though - one night, she told me a story in heart-breaking detail of Huggy waking up to an empty house, finding details of our flight and running to the airport to catch us. He'd get there just as the plane was taxiing down the runway, frantically pumping his legs after us as the plane gathered speed, "Wembley, wait!" he'd cry. "Wait for me! Come back!" But it would be too late - the plane would take off, leaving the little brown bear bereft on the tarmac. I was fighting back tears, but knew that my mum was only ribbing me because I was ten and too old to really care about a teddy bear. And of course she knew just where he was, and could imagine my face when she took him out of her handbag on the plane.
Except she forgot.
Huggy, for all I know, is still sitting forgotten in that dusty cupboard in Singapore. I've tried to imagine that some other child has found him and loved him as much as I did, and I take comfort from that, even if it isn't true.
Here's to you, Huggy, wherever you are.
*sniff*
(Sat 16th Aug 2008, 13:15, More)