Having opened the sacks containing my soft toys yesterday, I decided they all needed a good wash.
Here is a selection, hanging to dry in front of the heater. I almost need to move to a bigger house so that they don’t have to go back in their sacks and into the garage.
I am a sentimental hoarder.
I was searching for a cushion that graced our first home out in the garage this afternoon. I came across the two sacks containing my soft toys from childhood. There was Barbara Bunny, Big Pinky, Tartan Ted, and Bluebell to name but a few.
As an only child for almost six years; I am fine with admitting that these toys were friends. They all have names and I remember hours of fun with them.
It may be the particularly strong homesickness I have been feeling lately that brought it on, but I am also not ashamed to say I wept at the state of poor Red Fraggle, all squashed and brittle. She is never going back out to that garage. NEVER.
At the supermaret they have an international section. In amongst the curry powders, strange flavoured noodles, Dutch biscuits and stuffed vine leaves lie the British foods. Hula-hoops, Jelly Tots, Double Deckers, Mushy peas and Jaffa cakes galore.
When I do the groceries by myself I often stray to this aisle. Nothing in it is ever on my list but the odd item will make its way to the trolley. The main problem is, while standing browsing the goodies on the shelf I usually find my eyes welling with tears. It would seem, without even knowing it, that a lot of my childhood memories are tied to these foods.
Next year Mr Pigalina and I are going over to England for a visit. I am worried that I may become a gibbering mess on the floor of Tescos.