"Pooh, whatever are you doing?" I asked. I had found the bear sitting on a stump with a pile of stuffing about him. He had his paw stuck into an open seam, and when he withdrew it, a shower of the stuff fell about him like snow.
"I've run out of room for ideas," replied Pooh.
"Well, you don't go taking stuffing out of your head. That simply won't do."
"Where will I find the extra room?"
"You need the stuffing in there to act as sponge."
"Oh."
"It's okay." I sighed. "I don't think there is any harm done. Put what you can back and I'll fetch a needle and thread to close up the seam. Why caused you to do it?"
I just heard something I thought was quite unique, and I wanted to be sure there was plenty of room for it. But I haven't been remembering as well lately."
"That has more to do with the age of the fluff and not its volume," I replied.
"I'll try and remember that from now on."
"What were you trying to remember?"
"Er. . . I forgot."
