Dad and Luke are cleaning out the loft. It needed to be done – there’s stuff up there from even before I was born, including, apparently, a very early computer dad used when he was 14. it has digital input and optical output, and looks like a ruler with bits on it. It is probably related to the computer in the garage – the so called washing machine.

It’s funny. While they were going through all the clutter in the loft yesterday, in about the middle of the afternoon I was struck a dreadful fear. I try to be a rational person, and rationality tells me they’re only stuffed toys, but I was suddenly overcome by the mortal fear that they were going to throw out Ted and Cuddles. I’m sure they wouldn’t throw them out on purpose; it was the thought they were in some unchecked box that worried me.

I have not seen my childhood bedfellows in ages, and don’t often think of them. I suspect they’re in the loft. However, the idea that they would end up in some landfill was alarmingly horrible: these two things – nothing more than fur and stuffing – brought me a great deal of comfort as a child. Why should I still be so attached to those things?

I think I’ll ask Luke or dad to look for them.