Goodbye, Dolly
Not being right fond of playing with dolls as a child, my collection was limited to those bought for me as I never bought any myself. I had a brief moment one weekend where I quite liked my Sindy and had a bit of a fling with Pippa but hated with a vengeance the needy Teeny-tiny Tears I woke up one Christmas morning to find. Father Christmas didn't know me very well that year. One doll I did like was a big, hard, plastic brute of a doll almost a metre high. My grandma knit clothes for it and I called the doll Judith, the name of my uncle's then girlfriend who I remember I admired a lot, but can't even recall her face now. Anyway, me and Judith the doll were inseperable and I even gave her a haircut one day with blunt scissors - which were all I was allowed at the time. And then I scribbled on her face with blue pen. She looked smashing. So when we were told at infant school to bring our favourite toy in for display on the stage at the Harvest Festival, I trundled Ju...