Dar Dar

It is 1996, May at a guess. So there are 19 months between our kids, and not long after the youngest was born, our eldest latched on to an old doll that had been hanging around (literally) in the bedroom. For those that were around in the 80’s it was a stupid doll from Athena or somewhere similar – a simple beanbag body, a huge round head filled with kapok and a cheesy slogan on its chest: “I love you sooooo much!!!” It hung from a wardrobe door handle, for some unknown reason, and she adopted it and called it Dar Dar. The spelling is phœnetic, to be honest, as she wasn’t quite two years old and couldn’t advise us on the correct spelling.

Thereafter, she and Dar Dar were inseparable. Dar Dar had a label sewn into its side (we never did definitively determine Dar Dar’s gender), and she used to hold the label while sucking her fingers and go to sleep. In fact, it was impossible for her to sleep without holding Dar Dar. We went shopping one Saturday morning in Windsor, and when we got back to the car and started to load up the kids and the buggy, we couldn’t find Dar Dar. Fortunately, No. 1 Daughter was asleep, so we assumed that Dar Dar was somewhere in the car. We stopped to check on the way home, but there was no sign. Anyway, we pressed on home to get the kids lunch, and I drove back to Windsor to look around.

I searched the car park, and the entire length of the high street, asking in every single shop in case someone had picked up Dar Dar and handed it in. No joy. No joy at the Police Station, either. This represented something of a problem, as bedtime that night would be challenging, to put it mildly. Fortunately, we had plenty of photos of Dar Dar. So I phoned home and left instructions that if she wanted Dar Dar, she was to be told that he (let’s just assume ‘male’ for the sake of this blog, OK?) had gone to see the Queen in Windsor and would be back next day. We’d worry about bed-time later.

Next stop, the craft shop. Fabric, suitably coloured fabric paint, and a small donor kapok filled cushion. The rest of the afternoon and early evening is spent distracting No. 1 Daughter before getting her to bed with promises that Dar Dar would be back next morning. How hard can this be, then? Cut the fabric to shape, mix the paints, paint on and iron to ‘fix’ them, sew the pieces together and fill the body with rice. Stuff the head with kapok and attach to the body. Job done. No, wait! The label! So one of my shirts is cannibalised and the label cut out and sewn to Dar Dar’s side. Hey, it’s only taken us till 2 am. Dar Dar is sat on the floor outside No. 1 Daughter’s bedroom door and we go to bed.

At about 7 the next morning, we’re woken up by the sounds of a small person getting out of bed. We freeze, wondering if the plan will work. There’s an excited cry from outside our room: “Dar Dar!” We’ve got away with it! And the ‘new’ look? Well, Dar Dar needed new clothes if he was going to meet the Queen…