Paddington Bear

Most children have possessed a teddy bear, as I have (my lifelong companion Teddy Tinkoes). But what about bears in children's fiction? Well, they seem to loom large. 

There's Rupert Bear, whose adventures with his chums and well-meaning grown-ups in and around pleasant Nutwood - a fictional village with a 1930s look, set in a rural paradise and completely safe for little bears to wander about in - appeared in the Daily Express for decades, with an Annual at Christmastime that was always eagerly anticipated. I was a Rupert Bear fan, and love him still. 

Then there were two others. Winnie the Pooh was the earlier, a bumbling brainless creature with toylike pals straight out of the Toy Story movies, associated with leafy Ashdown Forest and daft games like Poohsticks. I was unaware of him in childhood, and became aware only when Disney made a blockbuster cartoon about him. Even then I wasn't a fan. I can see that he might be lovable to some, but I found him too late to be a convert to his mystique.

Then there is a more modern creation, super-polite Paddington Bear from Darkest Peru, who lands up in Paddington Station, is adopted by a human family, and lives a London life with variable success, although the outcome of his actions always ends happily. I might add that Paddington's debut was roughly contemporary with the indigenous Wombles of Wimbledon Common, who of course were not bears (what were they?).

All three of these bears are likeable characters, full of honesty, curiosity and good intentions, and respectful of the old and wise, and appreciative of good behaviour. Much as you would like any child to be, but rather different from real children. Or real bears, come to that, as they can all speak English and think things out as a human would. Rupert is the least 'bearlike': he could easily be a small boy with an animal head, as could be his friends. Pooh exults in his particular kind of intellectually-challenged happy-go-lucky bearness, but is not 'human' in the way Rupert is. He seems the least relatable to me. Paddington, despite his humanoid abilities, remains a proper bear in many ways. And one with an unhappy past, as he is an orphan. It's lucky that he did quickly attach himself to a nice family and found a home. He might easily have ended up destitute and drugged-up in the bear equivalent of Cardboard City, under some dank road bridge in Darkest London.

Who is currently the best known? I'd say Paddington, especially as we have not only the original books, but a film, and now a musical. 

And if you happen to be in Paddington station or the vicinity, as I was last week, you can't avoid bumping into him. I had two encounters without trying; there must be more to experience if you search about assiduously.

The first encounter was under the Westway next to Paddington canal basin. This wasn't the half-drab bohemian quarter I'd imagined. It was bright and modern and artistic, on the edge of a modern development. There he was, a rhapsody in blue: 

I liked the all-blue interpretation. I was pleased to share a photo with him, and admired the rainbow-coloured backdrop (without which the underpass would have been a touch drab).

I've no idea why that table-tennis table was there. Was it also an artwork? Or was it a real table, for people to play on if the fit took them?

Close by was a different and more serious artwork, instantly recognisable as the work of sculptor Sean Henry, whose statues I've encountered in such places as Glyndebourne, Salisbury, Ely and Newbiggin-by-the-Sea. Apparently one man looking at another - the same person at different stages of life?

On to Paddington station itself, and on Platform 1 there were two Paddington Bear objects: a plaque with a painted seat beneath it and, nearby, a bronze statue of the Bear himself, sitting on a suitcase, complete with his hat and 'Please look after this bear' label. I was hard-pressed to get my shots, as adults and children alike were crowding around.

So: is my curiosity piqued sufficiently to at least read the first Paddington book and get to know this bear as his creator intended? Maybe, if I see a second-hand copy somewhere. Or rather, if I do see a second-hand copy, I will take that as a directive from the gods, which I would ignore at my peril, to read and learn. So be it. I don't want to be struck down by a thunderbolt.