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Leave him alone
I FOUND a rather battered cuddly toy wearing a dusty blue duffle coat and red welly boots in my parents loft the other day.
The discovery of Paddington Bear, my childhood teddy of choice, got me feeling all nostalgic about that wonderful character from darkest Peru with a fondness for marmalade.
The books and television shows were such a part of my childhood that I could hardly believe the latest news on the bear.
Yes, Paddington has sold his soul to the devil. Screenwriters in Los Angeles have got their grubby little hands on him and will be making his tale into a big budget movie.
Paddington Bear and his adventures are a treasured childhood memory and the concept of him getting the Hollywood treatment is unthinkable.
Everything associated with Paddington had such a bumbling amateurish charm to it with not a hint of glitz or glamour in sight.
After being found at the London railway station he was taken home to live with the Brown family at 32 Windsor Gardens.
So far, so normal – and that’s how his story continued.
He likes to play with Jonathan and Judy, reads a lot of books and is always hungry. He enters gymkhanas, went to a concert in Hyde Park and there was great excitement when the family decided to go on holiday to France.
Paddington doesn’t have perfect teeth, work out or live in a beachfront mansion in Malibu.
There’s no love story, he’s not an action hero and I can’t see Paddington either battling aliens or becoming the President.
And that’s how it should stay.
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