I don’t struggle for posts, not usually and mostly I know from a way out what I’ll write about. But today my plans were thrown when the news came through that Michael Bond, creator of Paddington Bear had died. Regular readers will know of my love for that little Peruvian Ursus. But, at the risk of trying your patience, dear readers, I have to repeat this post as I have a lot for which to thank Mr Bond and his clever creation. My life would have taken a very different course, of that I am certain but for Paddington, and Mr Bond.
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If I look back up the bannister of my life there have been very few splinters to discombobulate me during my smooth progress to the present day. And that is in large part because of a little Peruvian, marmalade guzzling, antique shop frequenting bear called Paddington. He is, after all, nearly as old as me, having first appeared in 1958. But it isn’t the similarity of our personalities (he’s loyal and a klutz who means well) nor our mutual longevity that links us.
I have many things to be grateful for. My timeless and ineffably lovely wife the Textiliste tops every poll. But I wouldn’t have gone to university without Paddington and never met her over cheese and wine at our tutor’s introductory soiree (yep, I’m old enough to have gone to soirees). I did promise I’d never embarrass her here but since this is a special post and this photo from our time at uni is fab, I break my rule just this once.
Uncle Bulgaria seems rather perturbed
I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer at primary school. Possibly being in the Archaeologist’s shadow played to my detriment. You might think that is false modesty but here are two school reports to put the truth onto to that statement.
the constant references to haste and ‘could do better’ possibly point the way forward
easily my greatest report ‘Geometry – ‘Utterly confused in exam’. Exquisite! ‘PE and Games – he tries’ Was any report more damming?
In 1968 the Education reforms of Butler in 1944 had morphed into a two tier system. The original conceit was to treat academic prowess and technical prowess in identical ways, devoting as much time and resource to each and to provide quality education for both sorts of pupil. However, while the grammar schools were succeeding in providing a quality academic secondary education previously only available to the rich or those lucky enough to win scholarships, the technical colleges were underfunded and thought of as frankly second class. If you didn’t get to a grammar school and ended up at the nearest Secondary Modern, (these were the schools where those who failed at the 11 plus were sent), you were hothoused to failure. Or that was the received wisdom. To fail to win a place at grammar school meant my educational fate, certainly in the eyes of my parents and probably in truth given I needed a lot of help back then, was sealed.
I scraped in (as to how that is coming). I ended up at Purley Grammar school in Surrey for a year and a half before my family moved to Hampshire where I continued at the local grammar school (there known as High Schools) in Brockenhurst. I had a fantastic education and some great teachers. Mr Boun in History stands out but Messrs Gifford (Latin), Bain (French), Hucker (Physics), Sims (Chemistry), Doubleday (English), Pearce (Maths) and Meredith (form teacher) as well as Miss Post (also French), Miss Davies (English) all worked their magic. Between them they turned me from an also ran into a pretty decent learner with an increasing appetite for knowledge. I made it to Bristol university which I left three years later with a Law Degree of which I’m still quite proud…
Ok, so all pretence at false modesty has now officially gone – and still I’m the token bloke!
My career in the law provided me with both intellectual stimulation and a comfortable existence, neither of which might have followed without that bear. My university friends knew of my love for and loyalty to the little chap, so much so that they clubbed together to raise the £25 – a veritable shed load of little green drinking tokens back in 1977 – to buy me a Paddington of my own for my 21st. Never was I given a better present. Moth eaten and dusty he still stands sentinel at the top of our stairs.
No hat and his label is long gone but that’s affection for you
For those for whom Paddington Bear is still a mystery, you need to buy the book ‘a Bear called Paddington’ and live a while in 1950s Britain of imagined tolerance and innocence, toast and marmalade and old men called Gruber in whose shops a small bear and twin children can spend time absorbing wisdom and elevenses without any eyebrows being raised. Paddington was explorer, detective, loyal if befuddled friend and, given his experiences as an orphan, stowaway and illegal immigrant, a great example to those who do not realise that lonely immigrants are not just wastrels and spongers but can and do enrich us if treated with humanity.
And why is Paddington so important to me?
As noted, to be granted a grammar school place I needed to pass my 11 plus. I failed it. Not by much. I was ‘borderline’, an expression now reserved for mental illness which perhaps is apposite given the strain my exam failure put on my parents’ mental health. There were a few spare places to be allocated so those who’d missed crossing the line were interviewed to determine who would benefit from a grammar school future. Interviewed at 11? What were they thinking?
I must have known it was important because I have some memories of it. Partly it was because the interview took place in the headmaster’s study, a place you only went when you were in serious trouble. I remember sitting down and swinging my legs and being told to stop by someone. I have no memory of making any sort of impression until I was asked what books I liked to read. I said Paddington and the only lady on the panel cooed. She asked me which I liked best and I told her. Back then I had a good memory for stories and could have given her the plots of all the books had she asked. In my memory now – I could be making this up – I recall a smile passing between the panellists as I rattled off one of the stories. I was in. My love of that gorgeous little South American lump of fake fur and kapok saw me to a better future than might otherwise have been the case.
And for that, Paddington Brown, orphan and Peruvian expat, I will forever be eternally grateful.
Michael Bond 13 January 1926 – 27 June 2017 RIP
TanGental 
Another Paddington fan here, although without such a nice story as your’s. Very sorry to hear of Michael Bond’s passing but what a lovely legacy to leave behind.
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Thanks Louise. Yes a little bit of me will be forever Paddington
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A fitting tribute to Michael Bond. Did you ever tell him how much his bear meant to you?
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No, too shy to disturb him but someone just asked if they can show my little offering to his granddaughter which is such a lovely thought…
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Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t feel you were being disturbed if someone told you how much your books meant to them! Lovely that his granddaughter will know.
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I was very sad to hear this news today. This is a beautiful tribute to the great man and – it must be said – the most excellent of bears. A nice and unexpected treat to see Uncle Bulgaria, too.
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Ah yes, once a womble lover. And he did have a splendid line in comfy chapeauerie…
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❤
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Lovely, lovely post! My heart sank today when I saw the news flash up. The whole Paddington scene is full of such goodness and generosity and fun, like its creator. But this tale has cheered me up!
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Ah splendid. I like to think dear Mr Bond would have been pleased too…
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Reblogged this on Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life and commented:
Geoff Le Pard as do all of us with fond memories of Paddington Bear were saddened at the news of the passing of his creator Michael Bond.. Geoff has more than one reason to be grateful to that marmalade loving bear… so please head over and add your memories..
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Such sad news but hey! Paddington will always be with you His Geoffleship!
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He is intertwined in my DNA now…
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😀
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Sad news indeed, at least you and Paddington have something else in common you both survived!
It is always a pleasure to read that post. RIP dear Michael Bond, long live Geoff and Paddington. 💜😊
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Thanks you Willow. We will do our best.
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You better had!!🙃💗
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A wonderful post, Geoff. I absolutely love Paddington and I have read them all to my boys more than once.
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Ah splendid Robbie but then you write delightful tales yourself so understand that joy only too well.
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I agree that ‘Geometry – ‘Utterly confused in exam’. is a superb school report entry, you should be very proud.
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I think the family have fairly embraced my success
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I too loved Paddington and was sad to read that Michael Bond had died.
I also sat the 11+ and passed, but we moved house that summer to a city which already had comeprehensive education so I didn’t take up my grammar school place. I still remember the stress of the months leading up to the test though, and the despair of the children who failed. Your achievements reinforce my view that passing judgement on children at 11 is an iniquitous system.
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Absolutely. Utterly mindless to fix a future at 11. I don’t think I really began to learn until 14 and then I couldn’t absorb fast enough
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A lovely tribute to Michael Bond, Geoff. I think we’ve all held and read one of his books at some time or another.
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I hope so and many more do in years to cone. Thank you Judith
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Michael bond lived a long life and left a wonderful legacy – and your relationship with that delightful bear and the success of your life is now part of his legacy. Isn’t that wonderful! ❤
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How true Pauline. I’m glad to have participated in his success
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A lovely story Geoff and a beautiful tribute to Bond. 🙂
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Thank you. Funny how things work out
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It sure is! 🙂
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Great tale, Geoff. Loved all of it. Actually, I was interviewed at 11 – having passed the 11+ I still need ed to satisfy Wimbledon College that I was up to the job. One of my lasting embarrassments was when I, who had never played any sport, was asked which I preferred. Being a smart arse and knowing the school’s bent, I said: “Rugby, Father”. “Oh”, came the rapid reply, “Where have you played that?” “With my brother and sister” was my lame reply.
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Did they let you in after that!!
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I think I was marked up for quick thinking. Interestingly, Fr. Wetz, the interviewer is one of three of my schoolmasters to have their obituaries in The Times.
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I enjoyed this post the first time around and today it seems especially apropos. RIP Michael Bond, gone but never, thanks to a small brown bear, forgotten x
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Yes lots of bear thoughts today
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What a sweet post. I loved that bear too.
RIP Michael Bond.
Do you mind if I send this post to Michael Bond’s Granddaughter? She is one of the loveliest people I know…I think she might appreciate how much he helped and inspired you.
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Oh that would be delightful. Please.
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Right. I’ll send it over. 🙂
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Hi Geoff, I’m Robyn, Michael Bond’s granddaughter and friend of the wonderful Josy. This is such a lovely post, and truly touching to read. I’ve lost track of the number of people who have shared genuine, heartfelt reasons for loving Paddington in the last couple of days. Not just “I loved his books” or “I had a Paddington lunchbox” but truly important memories or experiences, just like yours. And every time I read one, it makes me cry, because they’re all unique, all so special, and none of them would have happened if it weren’t for my grandfather. It’s an awful lot to take in, and I miss him already, but reading tributes like yours makes the grieving process that much more bearable. How wonderful that you can trace your life back to that moment. I bet my grandfather would have been delighted. Although, since he himself left school at just 14, perhaps he’d have added that you would no doubt have succeeded regardless of how that interview went. Thank you for sharing this, and for the photo of your bear… it’s fair to say that all of the best ones get a little bit bedraggled over the years!
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Robyn, thank you for this. I’ve been touched by people’s responses and how much that little chap has meant to so many. So many people enriched by your grandfather’s beautiful idea. My children benefited from his treasured prose and so will theirs. Such joy in deed timeless. I’m truly sorry for your family’s loss as he was grandpa to a lot us in many many ways.
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🙂 🙂
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Oh Geoff, I adore that you still have your Paddington Bear, albeit without the hat or label. I can tell that it brings back many a memory. Your tribute to Michael Bond here is very touching.
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His grand daughter has been in contact. Thats very sweet
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Sad to hear about Michael Bond, I enjoyed reading about Paddington and his adventures. I love the fact that you have stayed loyal to the little bear after all this time, Geoff. 🙂
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Yep, he and me are inseparable now…
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Love this post, the terror tot loves Paddington too ATM. I had no idea you loved him this much! How awesome that the bear saved your future, also mucho congrats on the First Class – think that’s my proudest moment ever too 😍
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It’s easily the most surprising in my life
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Pingback: School Days, Reminiscences of Geoff Le Pard | Norah Colvin
What a great story. I am sure your storytelling abilities have saved you many times! I’m so happy you still have your dear Paddington. xo
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I would be loathe to lose him now
Thank you for reading Darlene.
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I found my way to your blog from Jennie (the wonderful teacher)’s blog. You have inspired me to go to the library and re-read some of Mr. Bond’s books. I remember reading Paddington books as a child, but have forgotten most of the details of the plots. I DO remember his fondness for marmalade — and your blog post is also inspiring me to go and buy a jar. Hurrah for writing and reading…and eating marmalade!
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Now I am so pleased to wake to this. Yes, Jennie’s posts are a delight and if I’ve returned both Paddington and marmalade to your life, I’m delighted!
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Lovely, Will.
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I am moved, with a huge lump in my throat. Your story is beautifully written, and I want to scream to the world how wonderful and important reading aloud to children is, particularly reading books like “A Bear Called Paddington.” You have given Paddington a high tribute. Thank you, Geoff.
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You are a great continuer of a grand tradition Jennie. When we had children one of the complete joys – an unexpected one – was reading out loud to them. From the Hungry Caterpillar and Hairy MacClary From Donaldson’s Dairy through Harry Potter and onto John Wyndham I read to my two until they were teens. We loved that. In the early years, as a busy, nay frantic lawyer I occasionally left a meeting for and hour, when things were drifting or people eating to go home to read a bedtime story. Yes I was thought eccentric but as a way of clearing my mind and grasping some perspective it worked. And the children both love books (albeit they listen as much as read these days)
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My goodness, you have captured the essence of reading aloud with your beautifully crafted words. It is certainly a grand tradition, for parents and for teachers. And to think that you would leave work and go home to read a bedtime story. I’m sure it was as pleasurable for you as it was for your children. I thank the parents of the children I teach, and I tell them over and over again how important reading aloud is to their children. I realized years ago I needed to teach parents as well as children, and thus a blog was born. Thank you, Geoff!
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Reblogged this on A Teacher's Reflections and commented:
My apologies for neglecting to include “A Bear Called Paddington”, or frankly any of Michael Bond’s delightful Paddington Bear books in my favorite bear books blog posts. While this was a serious error, it prompted Geoff Le Pard to forward me the blog post he wrote about Paddington Bear after author Michael Bond died. My goodness, this is a treasure!
First let me say that I read Paddington Bear books to my children. Here are their two favorites, which have probably been read fifty times each.
I had the good fortune to see the Paddington Bear and Michael Bond exhibit in 2018 at the Eric Carle Museum. The collection of bears was charming. And, so was the original artwork.
Can a single book change the life of a person? You bet it can. Geoff is living proof, and he tells the story beautifully, with deep appreciation to Paddington Bear. Here is his story:
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What a delightful and heartwarming story (albeit a cautionary tale for education systems)!
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It’s difficult to say what is the right way to do this. I’m not against streaming and getting the right level of education to the individual but there needs to be the ability to progress at different speeds a d not pigeon someone at one age and that’s it.
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I agree. I’ve been working in adult higher education for the past thirty years, and I see first-hand the negative effects of that early pigeon-holing and how hard it is to overcome it.
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He is a character I know about but must admit I have never read. I will now though, thanks to you both. Anne always
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Thank you Anne. I hope you enjoy
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