Babs, baby


This is my new roomy Babs a.k.a. Tina by J.H.Lynch. Thinking I had first laid eyes on her as a little girl on the living room wall of my Grandad's house, I searched high and low for my very own Miss Tina. One fine Saturday, not too long ago, I found her. She stared out at me from behind the cash desk at a vintage shop in Notting Hill, sitting pretty, gazing over the pineapple biscuit tins and my Little Pony's. Impatient to show her off to my dad and whip up a little friendly nostalgia, I said "ta-daaaa" he said "Grandad never had one of these. You used to be able to pick these up from Woolworth's for two quid a pop in the seventies." I said "Ohh?"
Totally mysterious. I still can't figure out where I had first seen her and why she had left such an impression in my memory. I think we were star-crossed though. I am of an age now where my first adult home is just coming into sight as a dot on the horizon. Somehow, I know we'll be together for the duration, from first home to last, til death do us part.

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