My aim this lunchtime was to buy some clothes for a bear. As is sadly the case with many of my aims in life, I failed to achieve it I’m not very good at buying clothes for myself, never mind for a bear who I have never met and whose preferences I don’t know.

The bear in question is called Boston. At least, that’s probably how I’d spell his name, but you pronounce it as if it were spelt “Boast-on”. It seems to me a very peculiar sort of name for a bear, but it was christened by my little cousin who is going to be five in a couple of weeks. Boston, or Boaston, or whatever we’re going to call him, started life in a shop which is seemingly no longer known as the Bear Factory but which I’m sure used to be called that not so very long ago. It’s the sort of shop where you go and choose the body parts of your bear and then sit and watch whilst they sew it up in front of your eyes, something which always seemed like a rather strange idea to me, but which is apparently popular with small children. The same shop also does an extensive range of clothing for bears, and it was something along these lines which I have been directed towards purchasing as a present. (more…)