Rupert Pink arrived at his new home today. It’s the first time he’s been outside my parents’ house for over forty years. How did my special teddy manage to end up in a black bag in the attic? Maybe I’m biased, but he has always been my gold standard for a teddy bear. He has a proper stiff face, teddy eyes and the right amount of stitching under his shiny black nose. He has moving arms and legs and leather pads for his hands and feet. He isn’t properly pink anymore, but that just adds to his charm.

I can only suppose that he was briefly supplanted in my affections by newer, sleeker, shinier bears. Then he disappeared. I’m sorry Rupert Pink. I hope you’ll forgive me. If you can’t, I know you’ll give Bear a chance to make it right.

It must be a shock to be overwhelmed by an enthusiastic 5-year-old after twenty-odd years in the attic. Poor Roop probably needs a drink! And finally I’ve got just the old teddy bear I want.