Rescue Monkey

This is rescue monkey – you may know him as Curious George but in our house he rushes to the rescue. I have no idea where he came from but he has been living in a wicker box in the spare room with various accumulated toys, crayons, pavement chalk, jigsaw puzzles and other bits and pieces accumulated over the years and kept for visiting grandchildren.

The first time George sprang into action was when a grandson (now a hulking six foot rugby player) forgot teddy when he slept over.  Short of driving to his parents’ house to find teddy, I scrabbled around in the toy box and found rescue monkey.

The story goes that he lives in the toy box and is quite lonely so looks forward to getting out and spending some time with a cuddly child.  Fortunately it worked and it worked again last night with the youngest of our grandchildren. He even joined her in the kitchen for breakfast and colouring in.  Whew!

PS I stopped writing my blog late last year.  The world was so awful that all I felt like doing was ranting.  This is daft because our family life has been good, we have had celebrations and successes which we have enjoyed but I was finding it too difficult to separate the personal from the political.  I am not sure that the world has improved but I am trying to be a little calmer.  Maybe rescue monkey should stay out of the toy box.