On my Grandmother’s library chair, which sits in the corner of my bedroom, sits my childhood teddy bear. Big Ted was won at Knutsford May Day fair by my Nanna when I was 2 and was my beloved childhood confidant.
He is sewn into one of my childhood jumpers, a rainbow of coloured woollen stripes, wears a pair of Small Boy’s baby socks (the originals having developed holes themselves) and only a teeny patch of his original fur remains on his tummy.
He doesn’t even have a nose.
What he is now made of is dozens of small handsewn patches, applied over many years by my mother’s tiny stitches. Every time he developed a cuddle induced hole, Mother would cut up another scrap, one time a piece of her own worn yellow “fluffy duckling” dressing gown, and mend him for me.
He is, literally, made out of love.
Recently the napkins Little Sister and I ate with as children had finally wiped one too many little fingers and holes started to appear in their centres. So yesterday evening I sat down with my purring cat and patched them with scraps of mismatching fabric and brightly coloured thread.
Tonight Small Boy will wipe his mouth on the patches and I will be happy knowing that some things do not change.
What do you or your loved ones own that deserves a few patches?