I have a confession: I love bears.
I’ve always had a soft spot for cuddly toys; I rejected all the dolls I was given as a child. Tiny Tears was all too ironic in her name, I outright refused to play with her and then threw a tantrum when my Mum tried to make us be friends.
I was loyal to one kind of toy alone- the soft, furry and cuddly variety. I loved cuddly toys, of all shapes, sizes and colours. As I grew older I avidly went on to collect TY Beanie Babies, no surprises that the elusive bears were my most treasured. Truth be told this little obsession has never really gone away, a few years ago in Brighton my heart skipped a beat when we caught sight of an arcade full of Lotso Bears.
At the charity shop last week, I stumbled upon this poor little fella on the floor in the back, having been abandoned by his previous owner, sent onto charity, and overlooked. Fate had a way of stepping in.
To add to the heartbreak, I then realised his back had come unstitched. I carefully hunted around for a heart, but there wasn’t one. Someone had stolen this poor bear’s heart! Well that was it… I was completely inexplicably in love.
It was later that day, my Manager asked me if I would like to choose something from the shop for Christmas, which was very kind. We both knew exactly what it was I would choose.
Bear came home with me that night and he lived happily ever after.