Winter is a good time for writing because, even if the days are bright and crisp and being outdoors in the snow is fun, it soon gets dark. Small bears can get bored during the long evenings if they don't have plenty to do. I won't get bored because I have to tell you the rest of the story of my journey to Stoke-on-Trent aboard Uplander II.
After we came down the locks on the River Wey, Grizzly and Polar steered us onto the River Thames. They didn't turn back upstream, as I thought they might, towards the village of Sonning where they had found me. Instead, they turned downstream, towards the middle of London. The river kept getting bigger and wider, and there were more of those annoying, white pointy boats going too fast and all sorts of huge, funny-shaped houses along the banks.
On our first evening back on the Thames, we moored at a place called Sunbury. We almost had a disaster here because, as he tried to secure the bow rope, poor Grizzly fell in the river. He was reaching for the rope, with one foot on the bank and one foot on Uppie's bow, but the boat and the bank kept getting further away from each other and, because Grizzly doesn't have very long legs, eventually one of his feet had nowhere to go except in the water. Grizzly got quite wet all down one side but he kept hold of the rope and managed to pull himself out of the water, with Polar's help.
It was then that I noticed both Polar and Grizzly wore special fat waistcoats, to help them stay afloat if they fell in the river. After seeing Grizzly fall in, I wanted a fat waistcoat of my own, in case I ever tripped overboard and needed to stay afloat until Grizzly or Polar could rescue me. I told Polar that I wanted a fat waistcoat but I don't think she understood what I meant, as she started talking to Grizzly about making me a smart set of clothes for wearing to boat festivals so, while they were busy steering the boat the next morning, I decided to make one.
Polar and Grizzly keep all sorts of things in the cupboard under their kitchen sink, so I decided to see if there was anything there I could use. I found a tough plastic bag which was just the right colour to make a fat waistcoat. It had the word 'recycle' on the bottom. I know this means you should not throw away the thing but should turn it into something else, which was what I planned to do, so I put the yellow bag to one side and kept searching for floating things.
I found a funny dish which felt much lighter than I expected it to be when I picked it up. I broke a tiny piece off and put it in the washing up bowl, where it floated, so I decided that would be the floating part of my special fat waistcoat.
I took some small scissors out of the drawer and used them to cut out a waistcoat shape from the bag and to make floats from the lightweight dish, but then I discovered I had a problem. I didn't have anything to hold all the pieces together and I didn't know where Polar and Grizzly kept their needles and thread or glue.
Just then, Polar came into the galley to make a cup of tea. This often happens. Fortunately, she knew I was a real bear by then and she could see what I was trying to make, as I had fat waistcoat pieces and bits of bag and floating thing all over the settee.
'What a sensible little bear you are!' she said. 'You've tried to make a life-jacket out of a bag for life!'
She gave me some grapes to eat and, when we stopped for tea that evening, helped me to glue and stitch the floats on my fat waistcoat - or lifejacket, as I now knew I should call it - and found the clip from an old badge to do it up.
'It needs to be quite a snug fit, so it doesn't come off if you fall in the water,' she explained.
I was worried that it might not be quite snug enough but, after eating extra fruit cake with my tea, I found it fitted perfectly!
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