A child's cure-all

In packing up my stuff I have had a look at my toy line-up - the collection of sentimental toys. There’s Willy, the koala in yellow cord overalls, who for some reason took my fancy in a very big way about five years after everyone else had done carting stuffed toys around, and we were inseparable. There’s the blonde curly-haired womble my sisters gave me, owing to its apparent resemblance to me, the stuffed dog my niece chose for me, the praying lamb, Eeyore, I think supposed to remind me not to BE Eeyore, Beatrix, the little bear that all the way from Sweden on the front of my back pack and more. Amongst them is Cheer Bear (the Care Bear with the rainbow on its tummy). One day I was talking to me sister on the phone and must have been a bit down about something (can’t remember what!) and when she got off the phone she had this conversation with my niece, then four:

Sister: Aunty Ali is a bit sad today.

Niece: Where’s she live again?

Sister: Sydney.

Niece: Don’t they have toys in Sydney?

And so I got Cheer Bear in the mail – and Cheer Bear’s for keeps!