As heavy eyelids meet under darkened skies, a melancholy leg hangs down from my headboard. Brushing gently against the wood, his hirsute ears stay motionless… listening but never responding; a muted friend, safeguarding me from the nighttime’s unseen mischiefs. As a ticking radiator groans, arousing the watchman’s attentions, my peepers have long been fastened… secretly concocting fruit-flavoured dreams behind closed doors. While elves use up their reserve tank of niceties and fairies run low on magic, my friend sits peacefully, wide awake, devoted to the cause.
They don’t mind if their work goes unappreciated – glory wasn’t part of the deal. Quietly and subtly they get on with the little things. However, like fundamental bricks forming the base of mankind’s most staggering architecture, they’re needed. Man can’t live without water just as much as they can’t live without such creatures, for no bed is the same with a bear-shaped-hole in its pillow… they’re part of the furniture aren’t they? Besides, why break something that doesn’t need fixing…
4, 9, 14, 23, 39, 47, 58, 62, 71, 80… You’re never too old for a teddy… or 3!
(P.S. mine’s called Cyril… what about yours?)