This is a light-hearted look at something which happened in my childhood.
It is the true story of the Lost Teddy Bear.
It happened way back in childhood when I was just a wimp of a kid.
My teddy bear was light-brown and very important to me. I slept with it in bed every night under the blanket and a hot water bottle.
Where I live in the north east of England, it is always freezing cold, even in the middle of summer.
I remember waking up one morning and my teddy bear was not there anymore.
It was like somebody had decided I was too old to have a cuddly teddy bear anymore.
For goodness sake, I was still only eight years old.
I quizzed both my mother and father who were in absolute denial of any wrongdoing.
I suspected my sister might have taken it while I was sleeping and either hid it out of spite so that I could not find it or took it to the second hand shop a few blocks away in the shopping centre where she could sell it and get a few pennies to buy her favourite confectionary.
I searched everywhere in my bedroom that fateful morning for my beloved teddy bear and all around the home in every conceivable closet.
I could not find my lost teddy bear anywhere.
Remember, I was just an eight year old wimp of a kid at that time.
That morning, my Father had already left for work and my mother seemed unsympathetic to my inconsolable loss.
I checked the dustbin outside the house and looked down on the ground to see if the teddy bear had somewhow mysteriously been flung fifteen floors from the outer balcony.
No such luck.
I could not hold back the flood of tears which poured down my cheeks.
When I arrived to school, inevitably late, my teacher was angry at my late attendance and cared not to hear my genuine reason for it.
My friends, tickled by my lack of self-control, laughed impishly and mocked my demeanour.
The teddy bear was one of, if not the, most prized possession I had and I cherished it.
Okay, my telescope bequeathed by my late grandfather was the most prized possession I had and this cute little teddy bear was a close second.
It did not make any sense that my teddy bear could just disappear like this with no rational explanation.
There was a photo on the wall in the living room of me when I was three with the teddy bear.
It was the only thing to show that the teddy bear had ever existed in my life.
I swear I had not been naughty or got up to any kind of monkey business on nights preceding the disappearance to prompt someone taking the teddy bear from my humble custody.
The teddy bear, if it were a mortal living thing, might have taken offence in knowing that it was second-best to a long metalled tubed object I called a telescope.
I always thought of my teddy bear as a confidante and I shared secrets with my teddy bear I could share with no living soul.
I was certain that the teddy bear would not desert me of his own accord.
I used the photograph from inside the frame to make a report at the local police station..
I placed a hand-made poster on the wall in the shopping centre next to the Fish and Chip Shop and the Grocery Store.
I placed a notice in the ‘Lost and Found’ section of the provincial evening newspaper which nearly everybody got back then.
The efforts yielded no results.
My Mother did take a telephone call from a stranger who had seen my newspaper notice and offered me a replacement teddy bear out of kindness and sympathy.
An offer my mother refused and only told me about years later when I was no longer a kid.
All of this happened fifty years ago and my beloved teddy bear has never been found.
I no longer shed tears about the lost teddy bear but its disappearance will bug me to my dying day.