I was 6 and I had a toy owl. It had a textured tummy which was created by short, tufty, speckled fur which settled at irregular angles. I took the lifelike owl with its well defined claws made of orange felt, top stitched with heavy thread (it was a quality toy) to school. I can’t remember why. Perhaps it fitted a theme we were doing. The teacher took a shine to the owl and decided that it could live on top of a very tall cupboard and look over us. I think she thought I would like this. I did at first. I liked the attention I got. But I began to feel sad about the owl staying there for so long. I think it was months.It felt like I had made a terrible mistake. I would often look at it when I should have been working and wanted to take it home but couldn’t bring myself to ask. I eventually asked for it back. I remember the teacher reluctantly handing it down to me. I don’t have it any more.