I do worry sometimes that I'm not normal....whatever that is....I mean I still keep some moth-eaten toys in my bedroom for goodness sake. Why do I feel I would betray them if I chucked them? This is not even a very good photo of them. They're not looking their best. Left to right....my teddy...does he still growl? No. Oone of the remaining donkeys (a Merrythought toy)...I did have three originally...on a string...dragged round Europe when I was two...the lion my mother made Bel when she was little...especially endearing as it is made from all the scraps left over from the dresses she made Bel when she was a baby...Andy Pandy...who leapt out from behind a cereal packet...Frosties I believe...I just about died from shock apparently...then the doll with no name or not one I can remember...once again made by my mother...one of the Christmas or Birthday dolls she always made me....I hung onto one called Lucy for years....Lucy had blue hair...Istrange when I think about it now - seemed perfectly acceptable then. I remember the Husqvarna always whirring away at midnight when I was supposed to be asleep and if I staggered out, much furious rustling as stuff was hidden and my mother tried to look innocent....to the right of that doll, Mummy's teddy...the growl long gone...we've tipped him upside down far too often...and then another dolly who actually belonged to one of Mummy's friend's children...she's very special...we like her leopard skin outfit. Who else loved Andy Pandy as much as I did? Who else read the Andy Pandy annual and loved the story about Teddy's Dream Penny?
Here's Andy Pandy, Teddy, Looby Loo, Rags and the White Kitten on Andy Pandy's eiderdown. Who else keeps their toys? Am I mad?
