Teddy bears: Adults on their stuffed toy companions
Posted: Fri Feb 08, 2013 3:57 amBBC News
A recent article by David Cannadine about grown-ups with teddy bears prompted readers to write in with their own toy stories.
The article discussed the enduring appeal for both children and adults. Below are a selection of your stories about the powerful bond between bear and owner.
Big Ted is an 84-year-old Jewish refugee bear from Vienna. He came to London on 15 August 1938, and now has many patches and hardly any stuffing left. He only has one eye, a rare blue one, as I pulled the other one out. As a toddler I refused to eat, much to my mother's worry, unless I clasped Big Ted's blue glass eye in my hand. Over the years he has been hugged and loved and kissed by my two children, seven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. He now lives in Israel with my daughter. Vera Feldman, 82, Birmingham
The bear in my life is called Simon and I've had him for 58 years. He is on a six-month waiting list for bear surgery, "beartox", pampering and a nose job. Apparently his squeaker has moved to under his armpit so it's heart surgery too. My family think I've lost the plot and my sister-in-laws think it's hysterical, although they have promised to send him a get well card. Beverley Ettle, Eastleigh, Hampshire
I've had my teddy, Paddie, for just over a year now. But he's already seen me through a lot. When I bought him, I was still married and living in the US. Then, after my husband and I divorced, we (Paddie and I) moved to London. I couldn't fit him in my luggage or my cargo containers. So I had to pull out all of his stuffing. It was a tearful event, akin to surgery. I even told him he was going into a very deep sleep, but when he woke up he'd be in London with me. He's my best friend and I would be heartbroken if anything were to ever happen to him. My bed would seem very empty indeed without Paddie. No, not just my bed. My life. Mary Gillian Notzon, Westminster
For the last 12 years, my husband and I have shared the attentions of a French teddy bear named Arthur and his matching companion, a floppy-eared bunny named Camila. She's a true material girl, with wardrobe. He's a wise observer of her foibles. We can always tell who our true friends are because they "get it" about these fuzzy kids - that although not alive, they have been enlivened by affection and interaction. They provide us with comic relief, a bit of psycho-drama and surprising wisdom. They even have their own blog. Elyn Aviva, Girona, Spain
My bear was made in about 1946 in the Soviet Occupation Zone of Germany when I was two. My mother made him herself because 1946 were the hunger years there, and goods of any description were non-existent. He is dark red and the material is woollen upholstery velvet, now with a few holes. His arms and legs have been connected to the body with screws. If I ever gave him a name beyond Teddy it has been lost on the long journey from Germany to Australia. Maybe it is time I gave him a proper name - better late than never. Ally Hauptmann-Gurski, Adelaide, Australia
I have a small brown bear, Frank by name. He is so called because he is an earnest, honest, upright bear. He was given to me by a friend, as a promise that he would come home to me - and Frank. Frank had looked after my friend when his life went wrong. My friend never came home, he went to France and found someone else. Now Frank and I look after each other and we go everywhere together. Frank is a very special wee bear and very knowing. He has a beautiful soul. I will love him always. He is a good listener and he is my best friend. Heather, Rutland
Full Story:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21367728
A recent article by David Cannadine about grown-ups with teddy bears prompted readers to write in with their own toy stories.
The article discussed the enduring appeal for both children and adults. Below are a selection of your stories about the powerful bond between bear and owner.
Big Ted is an 84-year-old Jewish refugee bear from Vienna. He came to London on 15 August 1938, and now has many patches and hardly any stuffing left. He only has one eye, a rare blue one, as I pulled the other one out. As a toddler I refused to eat, much to my mother's worry, unless I clasped Big Ted's blue glass eye in my hand. Over the years he has been hugged and loved and kissed by my two children, seven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. He now lives in Israel with my daughter. Vera Feldman, 82, Birmingham
The bear in my life is called Simon and I've had him for 58 years. He is on a six-month waiting list for bear surgery, "beartox", pampering and a nose job. Apparently his squeaker has moved to under his armpit so it's heart surgery too. My family think I've lost the plot and my sister-in-laws think it's hysterical, although they have promised to send him a get well card. Beverley Ettle, Eastleigh, Hampshire
I've had my teddy, Paddie, for just over a year now. But he's already seen me through a lot. When I bought him, I was still married and living in the US. Then, after my husband and I divorced, we (Paddie and I) moved to London. I couldn't fit him in my luggage or my cargo containers. So I had to pull out all of his stuffing. It was a tearful event, akin to surgery. I even told him he was going into a very deep sleep, but when he woke up he'd be in London with me. He's my best friend and I would be heartbroken if anything were to ever happen to him. My bed would seem very empty indeed without Paddie. No, not just my bed. My life. Mary Gillian Notzon, Westminster
For the last 12 years, my husband and I have shared the attentions of a French teddy bear named Arthur and his matching companion, a floppy-eared bunny named Camila. She's a true material girl, with wardrobe. He's a wise observer of her foibles. We can always tell who our true friends are because they "get it" about these fuzzy kids - that although not alive, they have been enlivened by affection and interaction. They provide us with comic relief, a bit of psycho-drama and surprising wisdom. They even have their own blog. Elyn Aviva, Girona, Spain
My bear was made in about 1946 in the Soviet Occupation Zone of Germany when I was two. My mother made him herself because 1946 were the hunger years there, and goods of any description were non-existent. He is dark red and the material is woollen upholstery velvet, now with a few holes. His arms and legs have been connected to the body with screws. If I ever gave him a name beyond Teddy it has been lost on the long journey from Germany to Australia. Maybe it is time I gave him a proper name - better late than never. Ally Hauptmann-Gurski, Adelaide, Australia
I have a small brown bear, Frank by name. He is so called because he is an earnest, honest, upright bear. He was given to me by a friend, as a promise that he would come home to me - and Frank. Frank had looked after my friend when his life went wrong. My friend never came home, he went to France and found someone else. Now Frank and I look after each other and we go everywhere together. Frank is a very special wee bear and very knowing. He has a beautiful soul. I will love him always. He is a good listener and he is my best friend. Heather, Rutland
Full Story:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21367728