Oscar

We spotted Oscar on a folding table at West Wittering a few months, propped up between a lamp base and a stack of paperbacks. Cream fur, button eyes, a little embroidered nose. He’d clearly been well-loved. The fur on his paws had gone smooth from hands holding him.

Build-a-Bear, we reckon. No tag left inside, but you can tell by the shape of him.

We gave him a wash and sat him by the radiator for a day. Once he’d fluffed back up, we picked out a white knit jumper and a pair of blue shorts for him. He looked very pleased with himself.

Oscar came to Surbiton Festival with us a few months, and that’s where Isla found him. She marched her mum straight over to the stall and wouldn’t be moved. He went home with her that afternoon and by all accounts the two of them are inseparable.