(prompt: 'down' 27/11/2020)

This time his heart sank down so deep he was afraid it was lost forever. Like being in the bottom of the deepest well, where you can only V-E-R-Y dimly see the tiniest glimmer of light, so you can remember which way is up... and dream.

That's how Clarence described it to me; his being at the bottom of a shopping trolley, beneath a pile of other rejects of the so-called 'toy' variety. I was witness to his woebegone plight—filthy and smelling bad—and raggedy spots as well. My heart ached to see all those needy and worthy small people. But I could take just one this time, and my choice was Clarence the Clown.

Instead of the gentle hand-washing I normally clean up my rescued knitted kids with, Clarence demanded my machine's sturdiest washing cycle. I knew he was getting his act together when I heard him shout 'WHEEE-EE-EE' and 'YIPPEE-EE-EE' as he whirled around at top speed in the machine's spin cycle. What an irrepressible spirit that clown had when he was all spiffied up and mended—and named, as well

No other name would do after I read him Archie Langford's poem:-

I remember when I joined the circus

A circus of great renown,

I wore baggy clothes and a little red nose

And they called me Clarence the clown.

But being a clown in a circus was NOT on his bucket list when he heard the 'other' Clarence's first job was following elephants and horses with a bucket and spade, followed by a stint as the cannon clown, being shot out of a mighty barrel. He strongly believed his balloons had no chance of survival... and he feared, nor would he.

"No way," he said. "I need my balloons to hit people with. Gets rid of a heap of crossness!"          Hit people? Crossness? I had noticed odd moments of a possible dark side, with Clarence often demonstrating a slightly 'off' type of humour. (I caught him in action in the pic above, with hapless little Bimbo, also a clown). It was not too long after his arrival I found an answer. One stormy night when he was cuddled up to me, in fear we may send him on his way like others had before, he told me he couldn't stop himself acting badly sometimes. It was almost like testing to see if we'd still love him when he was naughty. And he told me of having been bullied badly — way back in Clown Technical High School.

"Sometimes it's SO hard being funny all the time," he told me, peering into my eyes most earnestly. A tsunami of hugs and kisses helped him settle that time, but it will take longer for Clarence to believe in the healing power of love and togetherness the rest of the rescued knitted kids offer. They understand. Each one has been through his (or her) own particular stresses and trials.

They've truly earned their place in our family and their name —

'The Knitty Gritty Kids'