This is Teddy. He looks bloody good for his age, 33, which in teddy bear years is something like Yoda. This bear has been in 3 continents, lost in at least 2 MotherCares, driven across an entire nation to be retrieved, and received more surgery than Joan Rivers. That’s why his arms are all apostrophied.If you’re on Facebook or remember from when I was Fan of the Month on www.recoil.co.uk way back in the day, this is the same fluffy orange bear I had in my christening photo. Yes, when I was 2. My Nan took me to get him. I remember the walk to the shop & everything. There was an alley & a magical hedge. For the record, all alley hedges in urban England are magic. My mum used to give me messages from Teddy by having him whisper into her ear. This was accomplished by holding him up to the ear & wiggling him violently. She would then say "Teddy says he loves you & to be very, very good." I would sometimes convey messages from Teddy to other people in this same fashion. Teddy, unlike my other bears, did not prefer to speak out loud. I also sucked my thumb until I was 6 (shut up) so that is why his arms are squooshed. I would hold his arm in my four fingers, then pop my thumb in my mouth, effectively dragging my bear around from my face. There are a number of photos of me for a period of years where there is no evidence that I have a neck. Teddy is always there. And he always will be. Men come & go, but your bear is fo’ life. Word.