Rocky the black bear

When a parent celebrates his birthday, it always ends up being about the child to a degree, or at least he ends up getting at least one present. This is what happened to Wolfie, in a most unexpected manner. So yesterday we went to Wallingford for my birthday. Wallingford is one of the few English towns celebrating St George's Day, usually the Saturday before. There are many stands and special activities for a few hours. Among them, a stand where they were selling various things to finance the local scouts group. There were fancy and not so fancy items and second hand plush toys. Plush toys that were not merely bought but "adopted", with a certificate of adoption and everything. The lady running it tried to have us buy a leopard, a giraffe, but Wolfie held this black bear the moment I showed it to him and started cuddling him. We then of course had to buy it. At four pounds, it was not expensive, but a bit much for something second hand and full of germs. At least it was for charity. So his name is Rocky (name given on his red tag, we could change it but I like it) and he is the new member of my son's plush menagerie.