No memory of being a small baba would be complete without mentioning my extended family of dolls and furry animals. As always these were carried to extremes - the animals all travelled wherever I did - on leads so as not to get lost. There was Sixpence the rabbit, Miranda the monkey and my beloved talisman Pooji the panda. There were others but their names and shapes escape me. Pooji was my best beloved and stayed with me until he met an untimely end at the hands of a Nepalese customs officer who brutally tore in two; assuming that he must be vessel for smuggling drugs - what else would a nineteen year old still have an old and slightly balding bear. I had to be held back from attacking the man and my poor Pooji was returned to me in two halves with stuffing leaking like blood from his wounds.
My dolls were rather more complex - I had a variety from standard baby dolls to dolls from all over the world - any one travelling somewhere exotic was tasked with bringing me back a doll. The only failure was my father who had been to Ethiopia and failed. Dolls apparently were not big in Haillie Selassie's country. As well as all of these there were
the dolls house dolls and, as I grew more sophisticated,
Barbie and
Sindy.
None of the sets of playthings ever crossed or met in being played with - the big dolls went to school, with me as teacher or travelled on a wagon train looking for the Oregon trail. My super successful
Oregon Trail drama scheme of work owed a lot to those games. The big dolls were really better for two people games.
The world dolls were harder to play with. Being a literal minded little baba I worried about the language barrier - how could they speak to each other - how could I speak to them? Eventually they were arranged on the shelf of my bookcase and became ornaments. All of them except for two - for I had an Indian bride and groom from the Bengal Home Industries and they provided hours of fun. The poor souls were married and remarried again and again. I almost set the house on fire providing them with a realistic flame to walk around. Then one day the man's base fell off and I scratched myself, instant tetanus injection as the nail was rather rusty and they too were banished to the top shelf.
I loved the dolls house. I loved
Rumer Godden's book
The Doll's House. At night when everyone was asleep I would creep to window and look in to see if the dolls had moved or were moving. They never were but that proved nothing as sometimes furniture would be in different place or one of the dolls would be upstairs when I knew I had left them downstairs in the kitchen. Time spent playing with the dolls and the house was rather like the time spent now on the computer - it flew by and before I knew it hours would have passed.
And then I went to
AISC and my doll world changed. I met Barbie. Oh, the clothes and shoes. The hair. The amazing folding Barbie's bedroom that had a hairdryer in it. Ken! My Barbie actually had a
Chanel suit. Sindy also arrived - flying the flag for Britain. She was a bit of a disappointment after Barbie, flat chested and not in the least glamorous. They both had air hostess uniforms - Barbie for Pan Am and Sindy for
BOAC. Needless to say that Barbie looked great and Sindy looked dowdy. Sindy had a boyfriend too, Paul and he was better looking than Ken so my Barbie had an English boyfriend. They were, I suppose, an extension of the cut out books I had so loved as a smaller baba. I could dress and undress them until cows came home.
I still love dolls now - I would love to think that I could turn into one of the old ladies who has dolls and
dolls houses and cats: a little bit batty but in a nice way. I still have two furry animals - Timmy the lamb and Simples the meerkat. Oh yes, and a couple of bears. No panda though but...I went to the bear factory and had a panda made for Katy Joy - called Pooji. She loved it on sight. I just hope she loves dolls ' cos there will quite a few coming her way.
