Dolls

I was never into dolls when very young. 

Teddy bears, yes. My Auntie Lizzie gave me a teddy bear for my first birthday. I called him Teddy Tinkoes. Apparently at first sight I gurgled with delight and clung on tight. He's now sixty-nine, and the treasured guardian of my home. I can rely on him utterly. He's a bit threadbare, but then he had a rough time in his early years, until I suddenly realised that I loved him to bits and he needed all the TLC I could give him. Thenceforth - I'd then be about five - he was gently and tenderly handled. He got me through many a teenage episode. He consoled me through several later relationship breakups too. And even now, in 2023, it's always 'I'll see you later, Ted,' if I go out shopping, or off to lunch. And 'Goodnight, Ted, or 'Good Morning, Ted', every day. He doesn't come caravanning with me. The caravan isn't secure enough to risk leaving him alone inside. Besides, I need somebody I can count on to look after the house while I'm away. I still get emotional over him. If anybody harmed him, they would have my unrelenting vengeance. 

Do young girls, the kind who were around when I was very young, or the kind who are around now, put quite as much emotional load as this onto the cuddly person of their choice? I have no idea. I never had a special friend as a child that I could discuss such things with. I never let anybody else into the private world Ted and I inhabited, and indeed I would have resented any intrusion, however well-intentioned. I did not want to share Ted. I was possessive about him. No other toy I ever had meant as much. I was always a one-toy girl.

My younger brother was quite different from me, much more conventional in every way. For him, his own teddy bear Brucie was just another toy, albeit one he might take to bed. He was into forts and pirate ships, inhabited by a host of plastic figurines and animals, all mixed together. He had an Action Man. Later on he discovered Greek mythology, and then his playthings and reading matter took on a distinctly heroic slant - muscle men battling with gods, giants and hydras. He was obsessive about it. It seemed very odd to me.   

As I say, Ted crowded out other toys. I never acquired any insight into dolls and other similar playmates. For me, a doll was - and remains - just an artificial person, something young girls can dress and talk to and learn to look after; almost a training device for real-life childcare later on, and to learn which clothes go with what accessories or hairstyles. I know I lost out, never having dolls in my young life. 

I'm not however indifferent to them. They are too close to real human beings. Disturbingly so. I was very struck by these dolls at the Bowes Museum at Barnard Castle when I went there in 2018:

These are Victorian and Edwardian dolls, and they don't seem intended for playing with. They clearly lead troubled lives, and some have expressions on their faces signifying unhappiness, annoyance and perplexity. I think they would frighten many a modern child. None of them are having fun, anyway. Not like the dolls I saw the other day at Fenwick department store in Canterbury. These dolls caught my eye. Every little girl's ideal was catered for. Here's just a small selection.

Their faces are subtly different, but all are pleasant. Nothing to frighten here. These were large dolls, baby-sized in fact, and meant for younger girls. There were also smaller, more portable Barbie dolls for older girls, with all sorts of accessories for them, boyfriends included:

Well! Look what I missed. If Auntie Lizzie hadn't given me Teddy Tinkoes - a name I invented for him, incidentally - who else would have been my lifetime companion? 

Somehow I don't think it would have been one of those humanoids. I'd prefer an animal. Perhaps one of these cuties, also at Fenwick:

Even this creature had an appeal that those perfect dolls didn't have:

As you can see, he was very gentle, and I hardly felt a thing when I put my finger into his mouth. I can't imagine this lumbering dark green dinosaur ever having a tantrum, or flashing his eyes in bad temper. 

But none of them compare with Ted, being fondly held by me in this 2021 photo: