I felt sorry for it… there it was, on a market stall in the middle of gleaming, spruced-up tins, glassware and crockery. It had a melancholy face, as if it knew its time was up. It is wonky, and no longer has the parts that were originally its ‘selling-point’: hardly any fur, no instrument, only skeleton arms. When the key is turned, its little arms furiously beat an invisible drum – yet it still marches on.
I knew that if I didn’t take it home that day it would go in the bin. The trader couldn’t believe his luck, he was almost embarrassed to take my money.
This little drumming bear is still going and has a special place in my house and heart.