Bad news! The package I received was not my Eve Kitten and Jett.
Good news! The package actually contained an internet radio I won in a competition!
Bad news! I think the post office must have a huge backlog because I'm waiting for several parcels which are now veerrrryyy late!
Good news! I did get some dolls in the mail! I got my repro Sindies!
One is a blondie wearing an entirely unseasonal sunsuit, while the other is a fully uniformed brunette nurse, so at least she can administer first aid when Blondie catches pneumonia!
These dolls were originally sold with a short-lived Sindy partworks magazine. On closer inspection I have to say that she looks the part despite being obviously cheaply made (and sometimes a even a bit grubby) in the pack. She's not a perfect replica, the plastics used look cheaper, she doesn't have rooted eyelashes and her body is different. But the outfits are nice and she does what I wanted her to, which is to remind me of the Sindies I had when I was a little girl, she does still have that Sindy character so I am very happy with them!
The Tragic Story of the Death of a Sindy
When I was very young every girl played with Sindy and no-one had Barbie. Much as I like Barbie, it seems a shame that little girls nowadays only seem to have the option to play with American dolls. Sindy always seemed to be portrayed as so... English!
The story of my first Sindy probably goes to explain my dolly obsession now;
The very first doll that I can ever remember having, at age three, was a blonde active Sindy in an ice skating outfit. I adored her, so naturally, decided to take her along with me on a family visit to my Great Auntie's house.
We didn't have a car in my family, so after a long and exciting visit we began our trek back through the town centre to catch the bus home.
Because I was only very small and quite tired I asked my Mum if she would carry my Sindy for me the rest of the way home (well, actually I probably whined my request!).
My Mum being a sensible woman who wished to instil responsibility into us, refused my request (or most likely demand) telling me that I had brought the doll so it was my job to carry her. However, being a cunning little minx I devised a sly plan to slip the poor dolly into my Mum's bag when no-one was looking.
I waited for my moment and when I thought her attention was elsewhere (observing a gap in the traffic so that we could cross a busy road) I tried to make the switch!
Unfortunately we also chose that moment to set off across the busy road. I dropped my Sindy who was promptly crushed flat by a bus before my very eyes!
Thus occurred my first dolly tragedy...
Although I was very upset, my family had very little money, and there were three of us children to support. I didn't get a replacement Sindy (a brunette in a pink swimsuit) until the following Christmas almost a full year later. Could this be the trauma induced root of my doll obsession? Who knows... there was also the tragedy of the 'My First Barbie' who got eaten by a neighbour's dog... and the toddler doll I had to wrestle from a thieveing horse... (yes I said horse)... but they're different stories! ^-^