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Anniversary of the death of King George the 5th

That note in the newspaper reminded me of a story from my childhood. There was a big church parade in Charlottetown to pay respect to the late King. My father was busy getting into his military uniform and buttons were being shined and his wonder high boots smelt like the good leather they were. The house was in a big hum. I was very young and a big nuisance - a really big nuisance. Mother was desperate. The previous Christmas friends of my parents from New York had given me a glorious doll; long blonde ringlets, movable arms and legs and with a very fine dress. It had been decided that it should be put away until I was older and more worthy of such a gift. I got the doll that day and promptly called her "King George". It was my most favourite. I lugged it around everywhere. Soon the dress was gone and the hair was no more, but I still loved it mightly. It was pretty amusing for my parents and their friends to hear me crying for "King George" when I misplaced her. She lasted until I was about seven or eight when my sister, Betty decided that she should have a bath and submerged my composite treasure into the tub. I tried to love her after that, but she just wasn't the same. God rest the King.

Written Sunday, January 21, 2001 at 01:59 AM

(c) 2000 by Catherine Hennessey. Questions or comments? Email me@catherinehennessey.com

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