On my sixth birthday I was given a hand puppet. I called him Smith. At school that day everybody wanted to play with him and I wasn’t strong enough to assert myself and keep Smith all to myself. A girl took him and pulled his beautiful whiskers off and licked his nose. Her lick left a nasty residue on the stitching of his nose and he was never the same again. Still beautiful but forever a reminder that I had been weak.

When I had my own children I got Smith out and introduced him. He was an instant success and they ignored me and addressed him directly. He enjoyed this and took up the role quite easily.

 Rachel insisted on his coming shopping with her but he became very shy in the supermarket. On one such occasion he lost one of his eyes. He was profoundly upset and I had to give him an eye operation in which he was given an eye transplant. It was impossible to get a green glass cat’s eye so he had to be content with a blue doll’s eye.

I found Smith could express his feelings with conviction. Worrying about other people’s feelings did not encumber him and he would threaten to scratch and bite anyone who annoyed him. Through him I could tap into my ethical centre and I found it to contain humour, satire and clarity. 

When a person sees Smith I sometimes see their eyes light up as they remember some icon of their own and then I know they are in their own heads seeing some universal Smith within.

Smith chooses a childlike simplicity to express adult ideas, He is derisive and allows himself to be ironic. He will call a spade a spade when I personally would not. He dares to disagree.

Smith has been sulking but now he is not!

Lucinda Clutterbuck

2009