Picnic Time For Teddy Bears

Back in December 2024 I wrote about the film ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’ as my contribution to the ‘Disappearing Act’ theme. I mostly remembered the atmosphere it conjured up when I first saw it back in around 1976. Here’s the link: Disappearing Act

And today is the 10th July 2026 and I was surprised and very delighted to find that when I looked up information to get a start on this week’s theme of Picnic I found that it is actually ‘National Teddy Bear Picnic Day’. Apparently it is celebrated all round the world and especially in the woods near you and me.

The Teddy Bears' Picnic

I’m going off on a bit of a tangent here but if I asked you what sound would the BBC Radio Engineers have used in 1932 to test equipment? Well, they used a sound produced by a Henry Hall recording of especially good quality with a large tonal range. It was used for more than 30 years by BBC audio engineers (up until the early 1960s) to aurally assess the frequency response of audio equipment.

Well done to anyone who answers ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’. I didn’t know.

But why are they Teddy Bears? It turns out that when U.S. President, Theodore Roosevelt, was on a hunting trip in 1902 he refused to shoot a bear cub that had been tied up for him, deeming it unsportsmanlike. This act of compassion was widely publicized and inspired toy makers to create our first toy bears, naming them 'Teddy's bears' in his honour.

'Teddy' Roosevelt spares the bear

Anyway, back to the picnic bit. Not long after the above, in 1907, ‘The Teddy Bears' Picnic’ was composed as a melody by composer John Walter Bratton, and then lyrics were added in 1932 by songwriter Jimmy Kennedy. Kennedy lived at Staplegrove Elm and is buried in Staplegrove Church, in Taunton, Somerset. Local folklore has it that the small wooded area between the church and Staplegrove Scout Hut was the inspiration for his lyrics.

You would not believe the number of artists who have recorded both the melodic version and the vocal version. That first vocal version had Val Rosing singing Kennedy's lyrics. The song has been subsequently recorded by Bing Crosby, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Rosemary Clooney, Jerry Garcia, John Inman, Anne Murray, Bad Manners and Drastic Measures.

And that’s without references to it in popular culture. It appears briefly in the musical score by Robert Israel to accompany Buster Keaton's 1926 silent film The General, used as background music in the Looney Tunes cartoons, the song appears in the movie adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

The song can be briefly heard in the 1968 Doctor Who episode The Invasion, Dad's Army uses the song in an episode from 1970 called The Big Parade. The Henry Hall version was featured in the Dennis Potter’s The Singing Detective from 1986. It features in Peter Greenaway's 1986 film A Zed & Two Noughts and it is mentioned in Peaky Blinders.

Enough of lists.

I’ve had my bear since I don’t know when, his name is Stephen. He has just given me a bit of a rocket for suggesting earlier that he is a toy.

Not much of a choice for the poem of the week.

Jimmy Kennedy

The Teddy Bears’ Picnic

If you go down to the woods today
You're sure of a big surprise.
If you go down to the woods today
You'd better go in disguise.
For every bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain,
Because today's the day
The teddy bears have their picnic.

Picnic time for teddy bears,
The little teddy bears
Are having a lovely time today.
Watch them, catch them unawares
And see them picnic on their holiday.
See them gaily gad about,
They love to play and shout,
They never have any cares.
At six o'clock their mummies and daddies
Will take them home to bed,
Because they're tired little teddy bears.

If you go down to the woods today
You'd better not go alone.
It's lovely down in the woods today
But safer to stay at home.
For every bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain,
Because today's the day
The teddy bears have their picnic.

Thanks for reading, Terry Q (and Stephen).

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Teddies and Other Animals

Mojo mark 1

When I was teaching I bought myself a cheap, soft toy monkey who was destined to be a dunce for the rest of his life.  The six year old children in my class decided he should be called Mojo (to go with the polar bear called Polo who already lived in the corner of the room) and set about trying to teach him the basics.  The idea was that Mojo sat on my lap, looking happy but gormless, whilst I fired a series of questions to the children gathered around me.

“4 add 1?”

“2 add 3?”

“Can you sound out ‘pet’?”

“What does ‘dog’ start with?”

And so on.

Mojo was supposed to try and answer before the children, by whispering in my ear.  Needless to say, the children were desperate to beat Mojo, whose answers were invariably ridiculous.  The result was the children had a lot of fun, learned their sounds, added up their numbers, and Mojo remained oblivious to his own ineptitude, smiling inanely from my lap and receiving a lot of sympathetic comments along the way.  He always held a special place in my heart.

I took early retirement from teaching the same year my grandson was born, and somehow (I wish I could remember how) Mojo became Rio’s favourite soft toy.  Except he wasn’t just a toy, he was much more that that.   He was a supreme comforter and as time went on, became part of the family.  Rio moved around a lot in his first few years, between his mum, his dad and us, his grandparents, and wherever Rio went, Mojo was being dragged along too.  There was no chance of sleep without Mojo for Rio to rest his weary head on.  We all had a lot invested in that monkey.

I can honestly say, one of the worst weekends of my life followed the loss of Mojo one Thursday morning when Rio was seven.  I received a distraught phone call from my daughter.  Rio had been going to his dad’s that night so whilst he was at nursery, Laurey had taken Mojo, in a bag with some clothes, to the house and, finding his dad out, had left the bag in the side entrance.  Somehow, within a few hours, Mojo, the clothes and the bag had disappeared.  If you have never had a child with a comforter – in whatever form - that goes everywhere with that child then you have no idea of the distress caused by the loss of such an item.  Not only was Rio distraught, we all were.  It was like a death, and we reacted accordingly.  The worst part was seeing Rio trying to put on a brave face.  Laurey and I held it all together while we reassured him we were doing everything possible to find Mojo, but when Rio left the room the pair of us dissolved in tears.  When Rio returned he buried his head in his mum’s lap and sobbed.  I genuinely believe he was grief stricken.

I come from a long line of capable women who think that, not only is there a solution to every problem, but that we are the ones who have that solution.  I went into problem solving mode and eventually came up with an answer we hoped would make Rio happy again.  We had researched enough to know that we couldn’t replace Mojo with a newer model.  He had become extinct a few years previously.  I spent a day, searching desperately online for a similar monkey to no avail.  The only answer was to get another monkey and adapt it to look as much like Mojo as possible.  As a competent needlewoman I was confident I could do the job, but as a grandma I knew that Rio would not be fooled.  Only recently he had cried inconsolably and then stood by the washing line as Mojo dripped dry after a much needed wash.  He’d explained that the smell of Mojo was a big part of his appeal and I’d already agreed never to wash him again. 

The original Mojo, on his travels

The new Mojo, pre-op

The new Mojo, post-op

The following day, the new monkey arrived by special delivery and at vast expense.  He had long arms and legs, a bright smile and no ears, whereas Mojo had been short limbed with only the hint of a smile and ears like Dumbo.  I had quite a job on my hands.  What worried me more than the physical transformation of Mojo was the problem of explaining away the newness, the lack of worn fabric on his head and of course, the smell.  I set to work, chopping off limbs, adding ears and altering facial features.  By the time I'd finished Mojo had been reborn.  We were just left with the problem of explaining away the obvious differences.  And this is where Mrs Peacock and the Monkey Orphanage came to the rescue.....

The letter from the Monkey Orphanage

I'm not sure whether Rio, as a bright seven year old, was totally fooled by the orphanage story but Ido remember him telling me, years afterwards, that he'd gone home that day, hidden under his bed with Mojo and cried tears of joy.  As a family we never talk about the loss of Rio's favourite monkey, it was such a traumatic event, but as I look at Mojo now and see how worn he is once again I'm sure Rio would say the 'adoption' has been a great success. 

Long live teddies and other animals, but please keep your eye on them at all times.

The day the monkey disappeared by Jill Reidy

I like to think

The day that Mojo disappeared

He’d decided he was big enough

And clever enough

To set off on his own

That he didn’t need his daddy any more

(For that’s how Rio saw himself)

And he was going on one of life’s big adventures

He took the bag

Peered around the bin

And when the coast was clear

He made a dash

Nimbly climbing the nearest lamp post

And hanging there till the bin men had finished emptying bins

The shoppers had finished shopping 

And the children had gone in for their tea

Then, swiftly, he swung from post to post

Along streets where the dark seeped in

Until he reached some open spaces

Not quite the jungle

But maybe a local park

Where he met up with the other missing toys

Who had fled their owners

For a life of freedom

That’s what I like to think

Thanks for reading     Jill

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Teddy - a lifetime companion?

More than half of Britons still have a teddy bear from childhood and the average teddy bear is 27 years old, the poll found.  Travelodge, the hotel chain, surveyed 6,000 British adults and found that respondents said sleeping with a teddy a “comforting and calming” way to end the day.

The survey also found that 25 per cent of men said they even took their teddy away with them on business because it reminded them of home. In one year, the company say that staff have reunited more than 75,000 teddies and their owners. A spokesperson said: “Interestingly the owners have not just been children, we have had a large number of frantic businessmen and women call us regarding their forgotten teddy bear.”

Apparently, more and more teddy bears are being taken to 'teddy hospital' for repair. The trend seems to have begun following the television series Brideshead Revisted.  Sebastian Flyte's bear was Evelyn Waugh's symbolism at work.   Flyte would not let go of his bear because he did not want to relinquish his childhood. Symbolically, he was the aristocracy on it's last legs, trying to hold back the sweeping social change post WW1.  I won't get into the psychology of men and teddy bears. That is a science all on its own.

I don't recall having a teddy bear as a child. My sister says that I had a blue bunny and that bedtime was impossible if the much loved comforter could not be found.  I am a teddy bear fan though and bought a lovely jointed bear for my son.  Unfortunately around the same time my sister brought him a large Mickey Mouse from a Florida holiday and because Mickey talked, (I used to make his voice) teddy was relegated and Mickey soon became a trusted companion and confidant. My daughter loved Eeyore and he was her bedtime companion of choice.

Several years ago, I acquired a small cuddly Rhinoceros. Neal, as he is affectionately known is a handsome, horny little chap who sits in my bedroom. I can hear you asking , why would she call a Rhino Neal?  Well if you get that one, then you are of a particular generation.  If you don't then please ask your Mum.  When the kids were little, we encountered a real baby rhino at Chester Zoo.  Now that is what I call cuddly. He was gorgeous.

Anyway, getting back to Teddies. I have to say categorically that I am a Teddy lady and I really don't like dolls.  Creepy things dolls. I especially dislike the ones with pot heads and dark glass eyes.  I think the pained on eyelashes are hideous.  Give me a worn out, stuffed bear with a loveable face and stiff joints and I will be a happy bunny. I have a granddaughter now and I definitely won't be buying her dolls.  If I buy a teddy bear, it will be an investment in her future happiness. Perhaps I will buy her a subscription to the World Wildlife Fund.

You are invited

To a Pyjama Party.

Wear your pyjamas and bring your teddy

Or – wear your teddy and bring your pyjamas.

You can chose;

·         A bedtime story (pure fantasy)
·         An early night (it takes a while to warm up)
·         Lights on or off (night sight glasses available)
·         Late checkout (not available on Saturdays)
·         Breakfast in bed (no crumbs allowed)
·         Morning newspaper (or music magazine)

Toothbrush required.

If you are coming Neal – please wipe your muddy feet.

Please RSVP in person.  Thanks for reading.  Adele

 

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National Teddy Bear Day blog

by Mitzi Szereto (with some assistance from Teddy Tedaloo)

The Brits are a savvy lot. As a naturalised Brit myself (or should that be “meself”?), I knew I was batting for the right team when I applied for my citizenship. Any country that declares a national day of recognition for teddy bears is a country to which I wish to pledge my undying loyalty!

You see, I know a lot about teddy bears. I happen to have one—a larger-than-life (albeit diminutive in size) furry gent by the name of Teddy Tedaloo. We’ve been together for about fourteen years and he’s kept me going through the proverbial thick and thin. He’s quite a character. In fact, you should see him after a pint or two. We’ve been permanently banned from a pub in Maida Vale, London thanks to a brawl he got into with a monkey!

Teddy is very much loved by his adoring public. He seems to be more popular than I am—so much so that we finally had to sit down and write a book together. I mean, I couldn’t let all of that talent go to waste, could I? I’ve met a lot of bears through him too, since he’s a popular personality on Facebook and Twitter. Last year we went on holiday to Belgium. Do you think anyone I knew in my vast social media circle suggested meeting up? Heck no! But the bears are always socialising and travelling and generally just living it large. So we ended up enjoying a lovely evening out in Brugge with a bear and a lovely afternoon out in Brussels with yet another bear. I tell you, these teds are the way to go. They’ve got humans beat by a mile!

I’m so grateful to have discovered that there’s a whole other world out there besides the rather humdrum one inhabited by us Homo sapiens. Bears have been where it’s at for generations. There’s Winnie the Poo, Paddingdon Bear, Yogi and Boo Boo, and let’s not forget Mr. Bean’s little companion “Teddy”. There’s even Misery Bear and the rather rude “Ted” who stars in a film with that Mark what’s his name bloke—the one who used to grab his crotch before Michael Jackson had ever thought of doing it (Mark, not the bear).

Maybe we should thank former U.S. President Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt for putting bears on the map. One day while he was out hunting, his party brought him a bear to shoot. He refused, considering it wrong and unsportsmanlike since the bear had no way to defend itself. The story of the bear’s pardon spread like wildfire, and thanks to a shopkeeper asking the President’s permission to call his stock of stuffed toy bears “teddy bears,” the teddy bear was born. And the rest, as they say, is history!

Mitzi Szereto’s website: http://mitziszereto.com

Normal for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles) website: http://mitziszereto.com/normalfornorfolk/

Teddy Tedaloo’s Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/teddytedaloo.fanpage

Mitzi TV: http://mitziszereto.com/tv

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A teddy by any other name

 By Ashley Lister

 This week has seen us wave a tearful au revoir to two highly respected bloggers. I’m sure I’m not the only member of this group who will miss them and their writing and wait anxiously for their return.

Sheilagh and Standard – thank you both for your hard work, good luck with your current endeavours, and please hurry back to the blog.

***

Now, as some of you may know, I took on a new project at the start of this month. I’m keeping the details confidential for the moment but I mention it today because one of the pieces I’ve already worked on reminded me of the following anecdote relating to teddies.

Whilst I was studying my degree a friend of mine wrote an essay about the sinister motives of one character in an erotic story. Specifically she discussed a scene where one woman, wearing a teddy, seduced a younger woman.

I read the essay.

Then I read the erotic story.

Then I had to question my colleague because I didn’t understand a couple of points that were raised.

It turned out my colleague had never heard the word teddy being used to describe form-fitting lingerie. She assumed the passage in the book meant the seducer was dressed in a teddy bear costume.

The author had been talking about the garment to the right.

My colleague thought she had been discussing the one on the left.

I’ll be using this anecdote to make a point about clarity in my current project. I’ve been careful not to mention any names that might identify the person who made this error. And I hope that if she’s reading this blog, she will vow to give me a deserved kick on the shins for smiling at her misunderstanding. (And having read that last line again, I’m now worrying that she won’t know what shins are).

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Down but never out - Blue Ted is the Great Survivor

A cursory tedcount of bears around my house reveals that we are the proud owners of 26 teddy bears. In the interests of accuracy I have excluded various Bagpusses, reindeers etc. And what an motley crew they are, ranging from a Commonwealth Games bear to a Jester ted from Nottingham Castle.

Once after a party I found them all on top of the landing bookcase where they lived at the time, carefully posed in various types of sexual congress. Some kind revellers had rearranged them in ways that were unedifying to an unsuspecting voyeur, but probably great fun for the teds. Not happy - it was my party, not theirs.

But the doyenne of teds has to be one Blue Ted. Bought second hand at a Labour Party Christmas Fair 30 years ago for my daughter, he has proved to be the great survivor. Brushing off an early skirmish in a washing machine at the hands of a well- meaning but over-fastidious relation who considered him to be ‘dirty’, and washed him within an inch of his life, thus robbing him forever of the precious, individual smell that made him Blue Ted, he survived to be and remain my daughter’s constant companion. Katharine and I still remember that smell.

  

He survived a disastrous adventure in an Athens hotel once. He was left on top of our suitcases ready for travelling home while we went for a final walk around Athens. On our return, he was gone and a massive search was mounted, involving many people on our return flight and numerous hotel staff, with no success. Time was running out and we had to board the airport coach without him. Katharine was inconsolable when, with all hope gone, as the coach was leaving, the hotel manager ran up, beating on the window and brandishing – Blue Ted. Some local children had been playing football with him!!!! The inhumanity of it, but at least he survived.

 

He was a regular Blackpool supporter too and was well travelled to distant away grounds. This was not to the Emirates and White Hart Lane, as in recent glory days. More likely, it would be to Aldershot or Maidstone, Halifax or Barnet. He is not a glory hunter, he is a proper football fan.

He has survived numerous operations and bears many carefully darned matching blue scars. Blue Ted, I salute you for your resilience, your place in our family history, your joie de vivre, your constancy.

 

Here's Lulu Canard's take on teddy bears:

All I need to know about life I learned from my teddy bear:-

 

Hugs are even better than chocolate

There's no such thing as too many kisses

One good cuddle can change a grumpy day

Love is supposed to wear out your fur a little

It's okay to let your stuffing show now and then

Listening is as important as talking

Someone's got to keep their eyes open all the time

It's never too late to have a happy childhood

Everyone needs someone to hold on to

There's no friend like an old friend.

 

Lulu Canard

 

As you may know, this is my last blog for now. I return to face the music at college next week as a second year student of English Language, Literature and Creative Writing and, by a happy coincidence, Lara has handed in her MA portfolio and is raring to go again as a blogger. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this stint as a Dead Good Poets blogger and I thank you all for reading my efforts. I’ll continue to be involved in DGP and am proud to be a part of something so creative and special in my home town. I thank Ashley and all the bloggers for their kindness, support and good humour and for the opportunity to write for an audience at this early stage of my writing ‘career’.

Sheilagh xxxx

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Illuminating Achievement.

Did you hear the one about the bears on the loose in Blackpool?
Apparently, they've broken off their picnic and have decided the lights need more excitement...

Angry bears are reported to have lashed out in Blackpool.

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