I had a very hard, solid teddy, imaginatively called Ted. He became very threadbare, but I loved him. He was handed on to my son when he was small, who decided one day, that he needed a bath. That was fine, but drying him by sitting him on the fire guard (we had an open fire) was not very successful. He ended up very singed before I noticed what was happening. Poor Ted was never the same, and ended up in the bin when we moved house.
I do still have a few other teddies from my childhood, and I’m 72. You have made me feel quite nostalgic, so I’ll be finding them in the attic later. I wonder if my grandchildren would like to play with them??