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Showing posts from June, 2016

Boris the bear

Boris is a bear. 
My son Oscar's bear. He’s had him since he was one, I can’t remember who bought him for him, but he has been a constant companion since that day. 
I can’t even remember why he is called Boris – I don’t know if Oscar himself named him, or it was chosen for him as a tribute to the Mayor of London, or the Russian President from the early nineties. There is no real resemblance to either, although the London Mayor Boris has the reputation of being as woolly headed as the bear Boris, I’m sure the naming of the bear wasn’t Oscar’s first attempt at satire though.
When Oscar was around three he suddenly gave Boris a voice (The bear, not the Mayor or Ex Russian President), the only way I can explain Boris’ voice is a high pitched but growly, which I suppose is exactly how you would expect a small bear to talk, if small bears could indeed talk. “Would you like any ice cream Oscar?” “Yes please.” “Me too.” said ‘Boris’ from behind me as I reached into the freezer.
I turned to Oscar…