When I was a child I had a (very real) imaginary friend called Mrs Kershaw, who was my best friend. If I close my eyes I can see her as vivid as I could when I was a child. She wore her hair in a bun and carried a shopping basket that always had nice things in it. She wore a leopard skin jacket with kind of poppers down the front and a turquoise blouse. Mrs Kershaw had a kind gentle Scottish accent and I told her everything. Where did she go? Who was she? and where did she come from?
When I talk to myself (as I do frequently) I often wonder if I am really still talking to my old friend Mrs K and I smile to myself thinking she must be very much alive and well somewhere hopefully looking after another very lonely and imaginative child. 
Blooming heck Absent that IS my 5 year old granddaughter. She insists that she is a horse (despite her older more sensible sister telling her "no you are a girl and that's it") [spoilsport emoticon]. She hasn't gone so far as to only eat raw vegetables (yet??) but does nay quite a bit! 
Oh crikey. I was a rather lonely only child, but didn't even have any imaginary friends 
. Although I did have a book of horses that I'd drawn and had to decide which one I'd be riding that day. And there was the elephant that lived in the brewhouse [but I didn't class him as a friend]. He was probably too big to leave the brewhouse and therefore couldn't accompany me anywhere.
Nelliemoser, that is so sweet!
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