Friday, 7 October 2016

I Begin Again

This time, as a fox.  Each day is a new one, after all.

I saw fox in a window, and despite him being urban, irresponsible, admired him.

"Thought Fox," I thought.

He is orange, bold, corduroy.  I bought him for myself.  Called him Foxy.  Call her Vixen.

My affection for stuffed toys is rational, goes back a long way.

When I was 7, I saw the dolphin on a stall at Christ Church Highbury's annual Garden Party.   He was red, bold, corduroy.  When I returned, with insufficient pocket money, to admire him again, he had disappeared.  He re-appeared on my bed that evening.

That was when I knew for sure that my mother loved me.

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