This handsome little fellow is a Sasha doll, called, I gather, Gregor – not that I ever knew that, when he was given to me at some point in the late 1970s/early ’80s. I never was one for dolls, even if they were pretty little boys from an unspecified ethnic background, and he has lived in a box, or perched on a chair in a corner, for the last 20 years or so. In the run-up to the house-move, it was time to dispense with any sentimentality I might have had (very little) and let him go to someone who might appreciate him – and it turns out that he is really quite collectable these days. Funny thing was, though I have few qualms about flogging off my old clothes, crockery, unwanted furniture etc. at a car boot sale, it somehow felt rather grubby and sordid to sell my old childhood toys on eBay or similar, especially given his value – I couldn’t be bothered, quite simply, with people niggling over what year he was made, nit-picking over his condition, etc. So I donated him to a local charity which is relatively clued-up over retro/vintage items, and he can be sold on for a good cause. And I feel all the better for it. What else was I going to do with him – stuff him back in a box for another 20 years? Adults keeping dolls is pretty creepy anyway, I reckon. Still, he was a cutie, and I’m going to commemorate him here. [We won’t dwell on the fact that, if I think about it, I have had, in the now long-distant past, more than one dark-haired, brown-eyed boyfriend with a remarkably similar haircut and 1970s dress sense. Let’s not even think about that].