Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk

 The Doll with the Purple Hair

It’s 1964.  Christmas Day, and the three if us are queueing outside the front room. Am sick with the excitement and Daddy is teasing us with the big key.  “It won’t work”, he says several times and he keeps laughing, softly.  This room and the bathroom upstairs are the only doors that have keys.  He pretends to mix them up.  I’m first in the queue as I’m the eldest, then Therese and finally, Michael who’s only three and a half.

I’m nearly seven.

The door opens slowly.  I rush in and straight to my armchair where I see all the presents Santy left for me.  I can’t believe my eyes.  In my letter to Santy I asked for a doll’s pram and a surprise.  Sitting in the pram is a baby doll with purple hair!   I pick her up and hug her tight.  I’m so happy.  I look around and my sister has the same doll.  I can’t believe there are two of them.  Their hair is a light purple, short and curly.  Mammy says they’re twins!

I often think about that particular Christmas.  I love the unusual and nobody else I know ever got the same doll.  It truly surprised me.  I loved that doll for the next few years until my brother learnt how to use scissors and test them out on my doll’s hair.

She was never the same after that.

Catherine Conway