Nobody can quite agree on when, exactly, this bear was given to me. My mother believes it was my first Christmas; I am sure I’ve been told it was at my christening – but my grandmother (Mormor), who gave it to me, remembers it being my birth. Whoever is correct we may never know, but he has been mine for over 27 years and still going strong!
His name is Bamse, which can be translated to ‘Teddy’ aka I’m to lazy to think of a different name.
I used to always have him with me. One time, at band camp, an older boy took him from me and put eyeliner on his eyes, which never came off completely. You can still see the black over the buttons.
The jacket he is wearing was a later addition, and my mother knitted it for him. He has worn it ever since.
I used to cuddle his poking tongue and used to think it was the softest thing in the world! He is so worn, and there is no way I’m letting my girls play with him. I’ve heaps of other old stuff they can play with – just not Bamse. He is mine!
I was born on the same date as my Mormor, so it was only fitting that she, together with her husband, would gift me with the toy I held and still hold dearest.
He stays here though, not coming with me down under, too many risks involved!