7 Reasons

Tag: Cuddly toys

  • 7 Reasons Playing With A Cuddly Toy 2010 Was Not A Let Down

    7 Reasons Playing With A Cuddly Toy 2010 Was Not A Let Down

    Hello it’s Jon again. I know you weren’t expecting me again today – I wasn’t expecting me again today – but here I am. In my third and final attempt at reliving my childhood, I have decided to go all the way back to 1983. The year of my birth. On Christmas Day 1983, I was given a bear. Humbear. (He was the official bear of the Humber Bridge. Obviously). For many years he never left my side. So, in a bid to recreate the joys I once had, I am going to spend a day in the company of a cuddly toy. Unfortunately, Humbear isn’t with me. He’s at my parent’s house. So I have had to substitute him. And into Humbear’s place comes my girlfriend’s lamb, Lamb. (This is not his official name). Lamb and I spent a whole twenty-four hours together. And it was great. Truly great.

    7 Reasons Playing With A Cuddly Toy 2010 Was Not A Let Down

    1.  Lamb Can Fly. One of the things I have always regretted, is that Humbear always landed on his head whenever he slid down the handrail. Lamb doesn’t. Lamb bounces. Off his rather rotund chest. And then he sits upright. Ready for another go.

    2.  Lamb Can Dance. I learnt all my dance moves from Humbear, which explains a lot. Mostly why I prefer to do all my dancing sitting down ignoring the dance floor. If I had had Lamb on Christmas Day 1983, I dare say no one would credit the moonwalk to Michael Jackson. No matter what comes on the radio, Lamb does know how to have a good old bop. I did question his moves to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, but I shouldn’t have done. If we all liked the same things the world would be very boring.

    3.  Lamb Can Play Cricket. Not matter how much I coached him, Humbear was quite a poor cricketer. He never seemed to learn and sadly had to retire from the game in circa 1989 after he was called for chucking a record 347 times in a row. Lamb though, well he’s quite a different character. Rather wonderfully, he doesn’t have much stuffing under his arms and so they actually move. A full 360 degrees at the shoulder. As a result he is quite rapid. Even if he does suffer from Harmison-itis.

    4.  Lamb Doesn’t Get Bored. Humbear, despite all the epic adventures he shared with me, always had a habit of looking very bored. Whether this was actually the case or whether it was just because the person whole made him stitched his mouth on upside down, I never discovered. Thankfully, Lamb comes with a positive attitude to life. He just sits there, watching me work, loving every minute of it. Whenever I look up, he is there, smiling away. It makes one very proud of the little fella.

    5.  Lamb Doesn’t Eat Biscuits. To this day, I am still convinced it was my Dad who stole the biscuit and implicated Humbear in the whole affair. Though, at the time, I may have believed him. Thankfully, Lamb doesn’t like biscuits. He just sits there, watching me, munching away. And he seems to enjoy the spectacle. So I have another one to entertain him.

    6.  Lamb Is Happy To Sleep On The Floor. I was always too scared to let Humbear sleep on the floor. I thought he may run away in the night, torn up inside by my rejection of him. As a result, he always slept in my bed. And to this day, he still does. At least he does when I’m not there. Lamb is very different. We came to an agreement. Whoever won the pillow fight, got to sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a long fight.

    7.  Lamb Doesn’t Miss Me. I always felt incredibly guilty about leaving Humbear alone if I had to go to school or play in the garden or hide him under the bed if a friend came round to play pirates. Thankfully, I don’t feel a shred of guilt about leaving Lamb alone when I go to play pirates with my friends. I say friends. They are more local school children. And I like to roar at them from behind bushes. Still good fun though. Anyway, Lamb is very happy not coming with me. He stays in bed with Big Bear and Strong Yoghurt. Again, not their official names.

    *Many thanks to Claire for the loan (albeit unknown) of Lamb.

  • 7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Share a Bed With Me

    7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Share a Bed With Me

    The 7 Reasons Sofa with a big, red arrow

    Hi, I’m Marc.  I’m half of the 7 Reasons team – the one with the feet.  Some of you probably imagine that after a long day on the 7 Reasons sofa, in the manner of Laurel and Hardy or Morecambe and Wise, Jon and I put on our jim-jams and nightcaps and retire to the 7 Reasons bed for some hard-earned slumber.  This is not true, please un-think it.  The reality is, in fact, more bizarre than that.

    I would just like to make it clear that today’s 7 Reasons post is not 7 reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with our website, and it isn’t 7 reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with Jon (you’ll probably have your own reasons for that), it’s 7 Reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with me – sorry if that upsets any plans.

    Red and white image of an insomniac man with alarm clock

    1.  Reading.  I read in bed.  My bedtime reading matter of choice is often a large, heavy, hardback biography or a similarly weighty historical tome.  Consequently, holding a book tires my arms – especially when I’m fidgeting (I do a lot of fidgeting) between positions.  At some point I will use the nearest person as a book-rest – their head is the most practical place to rest my book as it is at my eye-level.  I’m told that this is annoying.

    2.  Decapitation.  I like to have two pillows to myself – one placed on top of the other.  In my struggle to get comfortable/block out sound/block out light/keep my head warm/move into the night’s eighty-third position, I often place my head between the pillows.  I find this position comfortable.  If you wake up sharing a bed with me, you will briefly believe that you are sharing the bed with a headless man.  This will startle you.  Every time.

    3.  Radio.  I listen to the radio in bed – BBC Radio 5Live’s Up All Night programme – it keeps me informed, educated and entertained while I am failing to sleep.  This is fine until 2:40am on Wednesdays.  That’s when Cash Peters is on.  That’s when the sound of my (poorly) stifled laughter will wake you up.  You will probably wonder why tears are streaming down my face; you’re likely to wonder why I’m biting the duvet (this is for your benefit, you’re welcome); you may wonder if I’m having a funny turn; you will definitely wonder if the spare bed is unoccupied.

    4.  Soft toys.  If I should find a cuddly-toy in, or even near, the bed, I feel compelled to tuck it in.  If you are not expecting to wake up flanked by a slumbering bear, a recumbent penguin, a sleepy elephant or a dozing handbag (I get confused in the dark), it can be quite disconcerting.

    5.  Curling.  Not everything I do in bed is annoying.  I often curl up into a tiny ball under the covers.  This hampers my breathing somewhat, so I fashion myself a small air-hole in the side of the duvet and poke my nose out through it.  This, I am told, is one of the cutest things in the world.  And it probably is, right up until you try to move my painstakingly-positioned sheets.  Then you’ll find yourself involved in a life-and-death tussle for control of the duvet.  And I always win.

    6.  Experimentation.  During the night many important questions will pop into my head, prompting me to experiment on the nearest sleeping person.  What if I poke my finger in her ear?  What if I blow in her eye?  What if I drip water on her forehead?  What if I tie her hair to the headboard and shout “Boo!?”  What if I loudly mimic her breathing pattern for several minutes then stop abruptly?  What if I coo like a pigeon and flap the top of the duvet around?  The possibilities are limitless.

    7.  Sleep.  Eventually, I will wear myself out and fall asleep.  Don’t think that’s where the fun ends though.  It’s then that I think up entire 7 Reasons posts that make no sense at all and get chased around the house by a horse.  As I flee the dream-horse my legs will flail and I may emit noises – I might even say, “Crikey, a horse!” again.  I have also been observed barking like a dog and trying to dig a hole in the mattress with my front paws…er…hands.  I meant hands.  By this stage, you may not know what time it is, but you’ll probably decide that it’s time to get up, which is great as I’d love a coffee.