It's Big Horse's bath day!

What is it that makes one particular toy special? This, for example, is Big Horse, H6's number one favourite toy. He's the one she goes to for comfort when she's sad and she snuggles up to him when she's tired. A night he drapes himself across her pillow - he's very long legged and necked - and H6 goes to sleep on top of him. He regularly has birthdays - at least one a week - and he's been married on a number of occasions, each time to a different partner.

Big Horse arrived as a present from my sister at H6's christening. As he was unwrapped and we discovered he was a puppet, someone, of course, shoved a hand up inside and animated him. Result? Complete breakdown on the part of H6 who was then only H1.5. She was terrified of him for a while after that - just in case he suddenly came to life again I suppose!

But she has forgiven him now which, in part, is his downfall, because he does get dribbled on quite a bit, which makes him a bit, erm, well, whiffy. So he had a quick spin in the washing machine this morning, followed by a short tumble which didn't, admittedly, do much for his hairstyle, but H6 is looking forward to grooming him back to normality after school.

This is Texas. Second in command to Big Horse. He's called Texas because that's where Grandad was when he bought him. It was love at first sight this time and H6, who was H0.5 when she got him, has adored him ever since. His little poncho was crocheted by clever Grandma.

Recently we were woken up at 2.30am by blood chilling wails.

"Daddy," wailed H6 at the top of her lungs. Daddy hurtled down the landing and into the bedroom. Mummy thanked her lucky stars and snuggled back under the duvet.

"Sob, sob," sobbed H6 incoherently.

"There, there," Daddy soothed, assuming nightmares. "It was probably just a bad dream."

"No Daddy," H6 wailed back. "I've lost Texas!"

Daddy located Texas (ever tried finding a black toy horse in a dark bedroom?), but failed to locate his temper and issued a few hissed warnings in the direction of the top bunk, while R4 snored unawares in the bunk below.

R4 is much more fickle when it comes to toys. She tends to favour whichever one is the newest, but Toby the Beagle, above, is the one that causes the most consternation when he goes missing. Where H6 likes to pile her pillow with toys at bedtime and occasionally needs rescuing from their furry clutches in the middle of the night, R4 will have just the one, usually Toby, tightly clutched in the crook of her elbow.

Occasionally we'll have a: "Mummeee I've left Toby at Grandma's!" or "Mummeeee I've left Toby in the car!" but mostly he's a faithful hound and doesn't stray far.


This is Aloysius, my bear. He's actually a replacement bear, number three I suppose on my teddy bear list, but he has endured beyond all the others. My favourite was a bear I called Mary Plain. She wasn't in the least bit plain and wore a beautiful cotton lawn dress and bloomers. Perhaps it was too many kisses and cuddles, but eventually her pretty dress was worn and she fell to bits. Aloysius is made of much tougher stuff. He's been to college and university. He's lived in five different houses, travelling alongside me between England and Wales, mostly in style on a Mini or Ford Fiesta passenger seat but once, ignominiously, on the back of my Suzuki motorbike. Now he has suffered the indignity of his place in the bed being taken by a husband. But he's still got a smile on his face.