Alphonse

Alphonse is my doll. I've had him since I was born.

During WW2, my mother was a Red Cross Nurse. She paced the pavements of a nearby village (Dormansland in Surrey) that was used as a giant maternity home for London women. She was there in case anyone was 'caught short'. In fact she was the only nurse to deliver a baby on the pavement during the whole length of the war. The young mother said she would have named the baby after my mother; but unfortunately it was a BOY!

Towards the end of the war (1944 maybe?) Mother went to a very grand Red Cross Ball in one of London's best hotels. She bought a raffle ticket and won Alphonse. In the Summer of 1946, he became mine.

Alphonse is dressed as a Japanese Prisoner of War. He has a straw hat, and straw shoes. I believe the raffle money was used to send Red Cross food parcels out to the prison camps. His uniform is all hand made, and, sadly, is beginning to show its age.

Dear Alphonse is now about 82 years old, but he still supports Remembrance Sunday. He will be sitting in my front window on November 9th, and also on Armistice Day on November 11th. He wears his poppy with pride, and remains dignified throughout.

I've written about Alphonse before, and I always say the same thing; I do hope that someone will take great care of him when I'm gone. Perhaps I should even take him with me.