Cal and Cuddly
Cal and Cuddly.
We were in the car. The family: Mum Dad Ellie and Cal. Ellie behind the driver’s seat and Cal behind Vicky in the front passenger seat. We spent many hours in the car. Driving slowly in London’s interminable traffic; going to and from the Cotswolds for weekend visits to Peggy and Jeanette; and long drives across France for half terms and holidays.
One day, when Cal was only six months old, they were crying in the back seat. It was a prolonged wailing with no obvious cause. Palpable distress which showed no signs of abating. Cal was simply inconsolable. Vicky, in one of those inspired moments that only mother’s can create, she grabbed a brand-new flannel cot sheet, tied a knot in it and handed it to Cal. Cal grabbed it, hugged it close and calmed down. ‘Cuddly’ was born.
Some people call them comfort blankets, some ‘soothers’ others call them ‘security blankets’. There is a lovely book (one of Cal’s favourites!) called ‘Gordon’s got a Snookie’ about a gorilla who is teased by the other animals because he has a ‘Snookie’. In our family it was called ‘cuddly’ and from the moment it was created Cal and Cuddly were inseparable.
It went everywhere with us and it eased the internal tensions that Cal suffered. It was a fifth member of the family. Once we forgot to pack it. Disaster! Until Vicky, in another moment of Mumness, bought another cot sheet, tied the central knot in it and persuaded Cal that replacement Cuddly was a suitable alternative. Another time we were playing ‘pooh’ sticks by a river, dropping twigs into the water and racing them to a finish line, when Cal accidentally dropped cuddly into the rushing stream and watched horrified as the current took Cuddly away downstream. Another disaster! The wails were huge. Until Dad in heroic fashion realised that the river, though cold and swelled with winter’s rain, was not so deep as to be unwadeable. Shoes, socks and trousers removed and Dad became the hero of the hour and became ‘The Man who rescued Cuddly from the raging torrent’.
After the river crisis, Cuddly needed washing. Previous washes had been conducted in secret, but now it was time to wash cuddly in plain sight. Reverentially, Cuddly was placed in a quick wash cycle and Cal would watch through the washing machine glass as Cuddly was tossed round and round in the soap-sudded water. Next, Cuddly was dried as quickly as possible in the tumble dryer. Once dry, a fresh knot in the clean sheet and Cuddly was reborn afresh. But there was a problem. Cal thought Cuddly felt different - wrong somehow and definitely too warm. Vicky’s final genius bit of Mummery was to suggest putting cuddly in the freezer for a few minutes. It worked and Cal was satisfied that the cooled cuddly could once again go back to full time soothing.
Cal was persuaded to leave Cuddly at home during school time but hugged cuddly greedily as soon as school was over. As the years rolled by, Cal could get by without cuddly during the day unless there was a moment of crisis. This constant use took its toll on Cuddly who became torn and worn but accompanied Cal on their final journey apart from a few strips which Vicky made into mini-cuddlies, one of which adorns Cal’s memorial altar.
RIP Cal and Cuddly. We miss you terribly.
Shared by Paul
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