"BIFFO THE BEAR IS AN EASTER EGG WITH LEGS..."

Biffo the Bear - he's a good egg



One wintry, snow-clouded night in the late '70s (I think), myself and a friend were heading home after visiting a mutual acquaintance.  As we were passing a block of flats, a motion at one of the windows on the first floor caught our attention and we stopped to observe what was happening.  A parent, in the act of putting his child to bed for the night, was writing on the condensation on the inside of the glass pane as the infant bounced excitedly up and down in the background.  (We could just see the top of the head, popping into view every few seconds.)

We stood transfixed, trying to decipher the reversed writing (accompanied by an oval-shaped figure) as, word by word, it took form before us - "Biffo... the... Bear... is... an... Easter... egg... with... legs!"  We fell about laughing at the silliness of the proposition, and, judging by the sound of muffled merriment emanating from within, the youngster was equally amused.  Then the snow and the wind caught us on the nape of our necks and propelled us, much cheered by our diversion, in the direction of home and the promise of our own warm beds awaiting us at journey's end. (I was reminded at the time of a similar scene in The WIND In The WILLOWS.)

If memory serves, at the time of this incident my friend was home on leave from the Navy, having joined not long before.  (Or, if memory fails to serve, he joined not long after.) We kept in touch via the occasional letter and it very soon became almost a custom for each of us to finish our episodic epistles with the slogan "Biffo the Bear is an Easter egg with legs!" I could neither read nor write the catchphrase without images of the night in question springing to mind, and having a hearty chuckle at the memory.  Naturally, I assumed that my friend viewed the occurrence through the same nostalgia-tinted spectacles as myself. It was one of those shared moments that neither of us were likely to forget.

Or so I thought.  Imagine my surprise then, when on a short visit back home with his new wife a year or two later, my friend enquired of me whence the slogan that we so freely bandied about between ourselves had originated*. "Don't you remember?" I asked, somewhat puzzled by his lack of recollection.  He didn't, so I gave him a quick recap of the events of that snow-swept night only a Winter or two before. He still couldn't recall, and explained that he only used the phrase because I did, and because he found it funny.

Odd, isn't it?  Sometimes, moments (or things) that folk regard as having, in some indefinable way, bonded them together - whether it be with friends, brothers, sisters, or lovers - and which they imagine to be fondly-recalled points in their mutual histories and experiences, turn out to be entirely one-sided affairs, having far more significance to one of them than the other.

It reminds me of times when I'd hear my father recount to my mother an obviously cherished moment from their past, followed by the expectant words "Don't you remember, dear?" - only to be met by a blank stare, a bewildered shake of the head, and a disheartening "No!"  I suddenly comprehend, with an insight and clarity that only time can bring, the disappointment etched on his face and no doubt in his heart.  (Such moments also happened in reverse, of course.)

I sometimes wonder how many friendships, relationships, or acquaintanceships survive only on the ghost of a memory of some past event that one of the parties involved has long-since forgotten - if, indeed, they ever remembered in the first place.  Kind of sad to consider, don't you think?

(*And he did so in the very flat of the person we were making our way home from on the night we witnessed the event, as him and his wife were staying there during their visit.)  

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(Note to overseas readers: BIFFO The BEAR was - and occasionally still is - a character in the famous U.K. comic, The BEANO - published weekly by D.C. THOMSON since 1938 and still going strong-ish.)