my father brought home one of the assisi hospice teddy bear banks. (if you aren't in singapore, it's a fund raising scheme. you pay $10, get given a teddy bear bank made of orange plastic, put money in it for a month, and give it back to the hospice. i think that is a strange way to raise money, but if they think it helps them, i see no reason to object.) at the moment it stands on the piano and i give it an affectionate cuddle once in a while. yesterday it came to me that to get the money out they will have to chop it up, with a large cleaver i wouldn't be surprised. i thought of ferretting the bear away because it had a sweet face and i was prepared to let my dad be called crook and scoundrel than continue to fatten the unsuspecting bear for slaughter, but i was disinclined to be cruel to the father, having already mocked him earlier in the evening when watching him transplant the new year pussy willow into pots. (the result of the repotting operation, i am sorry to report, resembled badly performed ikebana. i'd be interested if that lot survives.) i decide on confrontation rather than theft, with appeal to the emotions in reserve. the father looks at me in astonishment and said, no they wouldn't; there's a seal at the base of the bank that they can peel off to take the money out, and i go away foolish.