Happy birthday, dear bear

HUNDREDS of beady eyes peer down from shelves spanning the four walls of Bear Bottoms, a small shop in the centre of Durham. Some - those of the bear world's aristocracy - cast imperious glares down long, slim noses, while others - of more common origins - peer cheekily out of podgy round faces.

The commoners occupy their own corner of the shop, which is entirely devoted to the bear species. And while they may lack the older ones' pedigrees, they are confident of the appeal of their winsome faces and squidgy, perennially comforting bodies.

For it is they who will be snatched into the arms of adoring children, to be sleep-enfolded in loving embraces and have a thousand confidences whispered in their furry ears.

To generations of youngsters, the humble teddy bear has become more than a mere plaything, to be cast aside in favour of the latest Barbie doll or action hero. It has become a friend - something to love with all the passion of childhood, and provides a physical comfort that nothing else can match.

To mark the teddy bear's 100th anniversary this year, Bear Bottoms has commissioned a series of teddies commemmorating major events and personalities of the era, including The Suffragette, The Flapper, Edward and Mrs Simpson, and Star Wars bears. Aimed at serious collectors, they jostle for space in the packed shop with cheaper bears designed for children.

Joanne McDonald, 31, who owns Bear Bottoms, says bears can be a grown-up business. "We sell bears from Britain's oldest manufacturer - Deans, which is 100 next year, Merrythought, which has been going since 1930, and Steiff, which is probably the most recognised," she says. "We also sell bear artists' bears, which have been designed and handmade by a single artist."

Far from rolling off a production line, artists' bears are lovingly put together, a body part at a time, using specialist techniques to craft paws, joints and noses. Some are adorned with delicate embroidery while others sport jumpers, jackets, or hats at rakish angles. They can be filled with anything from wood shavings to glass ball bearings, and are made from all kinds of fabric, including traditional mohair.

Understandably, the time and workmanship involved in creating these bears puts up their prices - Bear Bottoms' most expensive are a set of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs teddies, which cost £900.

But as far as Mrs McDonald is concerned, they are a worthwhile investment, like a painting or a piece of furniture. She clearly recalls how her passion for bears began, like most people's, as a small child.

"My very first was a Dean's bear, which I've still got, then I had Nookie Bear. Teddy Edward, based on the children's storybooks by Patrick Matthews, was my favourite," she says. "I was never into dolls. When I was 16, I got a Steiff replica, then I started collecting them. I also started collecting artists' and old bears. About eight years ago, I went on a weekend course and started making them in my spare time."

Mrs McDonald's decision to turn her lifelong hobby into a profession was prompted by the decline of the C&A chain, where she worked as a manager. She established Bear Bottoms in 1999 and has never looked back.

In fact, the business has proved so successful that she has now moved to new premises, further up Elvet Bridge, at the former Fillingham's photographers. When it opened earlier this month, the shop's three floors were dedicated to bears, supplies for manufacturers, and courses on aspects of bear making.

"We have already run several training courses on bear making on Sundays," says Mrs McDonald. "Now we are going to do more classes and if people want to come and watch how to do a perfect nose, for example, there will be afternoon demonstrations."

Aside from designing bears and running courses and demonstrations in the shop, Mrs McDonald gives talks in schools on the history of bear making. She explains that the first bears were designed by Richard Steiff, who made observational drawings of the animals at Stuttgart Zoo, which resulted in toys quite different from those of today.

"The first bears had big noses, lumps on their backs and long feet," she says. "Styles changed during the Second World War - patterns got shorter and noses got fatter because they couldn't get materials, and the designs stuck."

Recognised as one of Britain's leading teddy bear experts, Mrs McDonald works as a consultant for Sotheby's, valuing them through its toy auction arm, the Thornaby-based auctioneer Vectis.

Her own collection numbers "only" about 50, which are displayed around her Middlesbrough home - not, she is keen to point out, en masse, but unobtrusively. Nowadays, she concentrates on collectibles, and has learned to resist all but the most imploring of teddy bear expressions.

"People often say 'how can you bear not to take them all home?', but it's a very individual thing," she says. "If I choose a bear, it's got to look alive to me. Its face has to look as if it's looking at me individually."

In Mrs McDonald's experience, the same is true of most people, and she speculates that in the whole shop, there may be just one bear that will speak to me. By way of testing her theory, we embark on a tour and, as predicted, I am assailed by a teddy bear general in a military coat.

Mrs McDonald says that most of her customers are adults; even men succumb to the teddies' charms, although they are inclined to go for the grislier, more masculine-looking types.

She is full of anecdotes about old women finding themselves with a bit of spare cash and blowing it on a bear, and real fanatics wearing teddy bear jumpers coming in to indulge their passion. She recalls a woman coming to have her brother's childhood bear restored after his ex-wife slashed it in a fit of vengeance. Apparently, hurting his cherished teddy was just about the worst punishment she could think of.

While to some, Mrs McDonald's profession-cum-obsession may seem trivial or even absurd for a grown woman, she is unrepentant.

"I've never thought of getting rid of my bears, or that I would grow out of them," she says. "Bears are ageless."

As I leave her quaint little shop, with its hundreds of staring glass eyes, I swear I see my bear tip me a sly wink.