Ted was taking his morning constitutional and Sally and Boulder knew to stay well away. “You should have been called Pooh!” Sally would often remark after Ted had been on the throne for what seemed like ages. But on the morning in question Ted was in something of a rush. He had a train to catch. He was on his way to see Dexter in Glasgow and being late was simply not an option.

Having vacated the bathroom in record time Ted sat in front of his personal shrine and lit all the candles on the small altar. The smell of burning incense soon filled his room, and combined with his soft growling chant it made for a heady atmosphere.

His meditation complete, Ted packed a small overnight bag with all the things a small brown bear might need for a long weekend away from the city. He took his toothbrush, a large packet of dried fruit and an autobiography of the Dalai Lama which he had started no more than a few days before. Twelve hours round trip on the train was likely to give him plenty of time to leaf through its 300 odd pages. Finally, he collected his tickets, which he had won from a competition he had entered in the Independent during the previous month. Out of hundreds of entrants his name, Eddie Teddy, had been picked out of a hat, entitling him to a rail trip of his choice. Sadly his prize only entitled one passenger to travel so Boulder and Sally were remaining in Stoke Newington, much to their disgust. Ted, on the other hand, was Glasgow bound.

As Ted was making his way down the stairs he was called back by voices coming from the top bedroom.
“Give our love to Dexter you lucky old bear,” shouted out Sally.
“And ask him if he’s got any hot tips about what we might go and see at the cinema,” added Boulder. “I’ve heard on the grapevine ‘Men in Black’ is supposed to be good.”

Ted then made his way through sunny London streets and thought about his trip to Scotland. He wondered if he might have trouble with people’s accents, or if there might be problems getting served in shops and restaurants. Dexter had also told him that it could get cold up north and Ted went on to think his fur on its own might not be enough to keep him warm. He was still mulling over this particular difficulty when his favourite conductor on the 73 bus started passing the time of day with him as he handed over a complimentary ticket.
“Going away for the weekend young Eddie?” enquired the conductor.
“Yes,” replied Ted, “I’m off to see my best friend Dexter up in Glasgow a nd I am suddenly concerned I might be rather cold because I don’t have any extra clothing I can wear. Do you think I might need some more layers?”
“Oh, I should say,” chuckled the conductor, “I imagine the only bears you will find up there will be Polar Bears!” And with that somewhat unhelpful comment he continued his circuit of the top deck calling out “Any more fares” as he wandered amongst the passengers squeezed into row upon row of cramped seats.
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At Kings Cross Ted checked the departure board before making his way to platform five where his train was waiting. Once in his reserved seat he made himself comfortable and settled into his book. Very soon the train was pulling out of the station and a skyline of tower blocks and busy streets was exchanged for rolling hills and occasional woods. Outside Ted’s window the lush green English countryside flew past in a blur. rabbits scampered away from the approaching train, frightened by the noise. It was hard to believe these timid hedge-dwelling creatures were related to his sophisticated flatmates. At the same time cows munched away on fields of grass oblivious to the clackety-clack of the slightly delayed Inter-City 125. Ted sat up in his seat and stared at his changing view until well after nightfall, even then he was fascinated by twinkling lights. “If only Boulder and Sally could see me now,” he thought proudly to himself.

Glasgow on a damp cold November night was easier to find one’s way about in than Ted had anticipated. A short walk up Hope Street from Central Station and Ted found himself creeping into ‘The Old Schoolhouse Hotel’ just opposite the famous Mackintosh designed Glasgow Art School. This was the hotel where Dexter spent occasional weekends. Once Ted had introduced himself to the desk clerk, told him who he was in town to see, he tried to convince him to put up a penniless bear for nothing on the lobby sofa. “Tomorrow night Dexter will be here in person,” he informed the clerk, “just you tap it up on your computer and see.”
Dexter was indeed registered as arriving the next day, so as a special concession Ted was given a very cosy corner of the lobby where he curled up with his book and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning Ted found himself awake early with hours of spare time to kill. Dexter was not due out of school until 3.15pm, so Ted decided a little sightseeing was the order of the day. There was nothing Ted enjoyed more than being a strange bear in a strange city - and what a city Glasgow was! It was a far cry from the congested and grubby streets Ted loved so much in his home town. In Glasgow the air was clean and fresh, the atmosphere was casual and there was a grand scale to all the brown stone buildings which towered up from the wide pavements. Glasgow was user friendly and Ted took to being the new bear on the block immediately. Although Ted sometimes had trouble making himself understood and constantly felt in need of an interpreter, he appreciated everyone’s unguarded friendliness. He got confused by expressions like “greetin’ face” (did this mean a happy face that was pleased to see someone?) and was not sure about how he took to being called a “fury brown ween” by assorted doting mothers. Ted also noticed that the temperature was decidedly nippier than London. As he walked along the cold of the pavements went up through his soft paws and travelled all the way to his knees. “If the chill gets any higher” he growled to himself, “I shall be joining the proverbial brass monkey in his rather sad predicament.”

Having followed his map with considerable success Ted found himself tucking into a late breakfast in George’s Square whilst finishing a chapter from his book which dealt with the Dalai Lama’s schooling. Ted was amused to learn that such a holy man had been such a naughty boy in his younger life, but it was difficult to concentrate on the printed page when everything was so new all around him. Even the pigeons in Glasgow were different. They looked plump and healthy compared to the oily winged beggars Ted was used to in London. Then there was the inquisitive looks from strangers. If anyone stared with too much disbelief as Ted chewed his way through a packet of dried fruits he would simply offer up his tasty selection and say in his politest voice, “Good morning to you. Eddie Teddy’s my name and I’m up from London to see my best friend Dexter. You might have heard of him, he goes to Crookfur Primary School and he’s just turned five. Damn fine city you have here by the way, oh and please, help yourself to some dried fruit, apricot’s my favourite but don’t let that influence your choice.”
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Ted spent the rest of the morning checking out an adventure swimming pool called the ‘Time Capsule’ and wandering around shopping centres listening to the sound of cash registers ringing in the approach of Christmas. The Disney Store was doing a particularly busy trade in Hercules figures, the same kind which Dexter collected so keenly. Ted counted his few pennies and looked at the prices. There was a tough choice to make, it was either a toy for Dexter or a banana smoothie in Prince’s Square. In Ted’s mind there was no competition.

One banana smoothie later Ted felt most important in his sumptuous surroundings. Beneath his vantage point of a rooftop café were dozens of tasteful designer shops on four floors with swirling interconnecting balconies. Moving down to sit outside the Katherine Hamnett store Ted took out his maps and studied the best way to get to Crookfur in time to meet Dexter. It was in reading the train timetable that Ted made an error. Consequently when he turned up at the main station at 2.25 instead of 2.15 he found himself kicking his paws on platform 8 for half an hour waiting for the next train.

In an effort to amuse himself he decided to try a little trainspotting. There had been a lot of fuss about trainspotting in Edinburgh recently, but after only fifteen minutes of looking at locomotives Ted found himself bored out of his mind. Unable to see what all the hoo-ha was about he returned to the newspaper stand on the main concourse and browsed through a selection of comics.
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By the time Ted’s local train pulled into Patterton station it was getting dark and there was still quite a walk to go. He was now running extremely late as Dexter was already due to be outside the school gates. Ted ran up the hill outside the station as fast as his short little legs would carry him, huffing and puffing as he went. “Please be there, please be there,” he chanted to himself, but it was to no avail. When he reached the school all the children had long since disappeared. To make doubly sure everything was beyond repair Ted climbed up on the school sign and looked out to an empty street. Dexter was nowhere to be seen.
“Nuts,” Ted growled before adding “dry roasted,” apologetically, realising he was in a children’s playground. As the light started to fade Ted decided there was nothing for it but to head back to The Old Schoolhouse Hotel and wait for Dexter there. At least by now there would be a room waiting for him and he could have a brief snooze whilst Dexter was having his supper. This he did, but he fell so deeply asleep that he did not wake up when Dexter came in. The next thing he knew Dexter was fast asleep beside him.
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At first light Ted was up and out on his own. He needed to get some fresh air into his lungs after what had been a long night and Dexter wasn’t due to surface for breakfast for over an hour. Expecting the day to be cold Ted dressed himself in Dexter’s school uniform left on the floor in a crumpled heap from the night before. His poor feet were still chilled from the day before. Outside Glasgow was bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. It looked magnificent. Ted went down to a local playground where he sat on a swing and hummed a Spice Girls ditty to himself as he swung backwards and forwards. He must have been on the third chorus of ‘If you wanna be my lover” when he noticed a bright red balloon floating over the roof of a nearby house. Ted watched the balloon’s graceful flight, gentle breezes blew it from left to right, yet all the while it seemed to be making its way directly towards him. When it drifted overhead Ted managed to catch hold of the balloon’s long string tail. It was only then he noticed that there was a rolled up note attached to the end of it. “Curiouser and curiouser” growled Ted to himself, thinking of Alice in Wonderland while unrolling the small piece of paper and reading the scrawled message.
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“You are my last hope. A week ago I was tednapped from my family home where I have lived for three generations. Masked men broke into my room, bundled me into a sack and took me away in a car to this place up here where I now find myself. All I can tell you is I am in a building with gold mosaics on the outside walls and plenty of arched windows to look through. I cannot tell you who my captors are or their reasons for holding an ancient bear like myself prisoner. I have never committed any crime.
Please, whoever you are, help me before it is too late. The best thing you can do is contact Marco at Little Marco’s, there’s nothing that bear doesn’t know about what’s going on on the streets of Glasgow. Tell my family that I am still alive and in relatively good spirits.
My anonymous friend I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Most sincerely - Reginald D. Threadbear (Snr)”

Ted got down from his now stationary swing, folded up the letter and drew in a deep breath of crisp air.
“Eddie Teddy Go!” he shouted out with all his might whilst punching his right paw into the air.

©Tony Pletts 2005/6