Rupert was my mother's favourite toy as a child. Here are some 80-year-old photos of her playing with him:
Rupert was a well-loved bear and (my mother being my mother) would occasionally get into scrapes that my grandmother had to mend.
When my brother and I were young, we played with Rupert, too. Boys being boys, our games tended to be a little more aggressive, but we didn't set out to damage him even when we were using him as a football. Neither did we deliberately leave him outside overnight in the rain.
Somehow, Rupert survived all this, at least in a manner of speaking. Here's what he looks like now:
I don't think the repair shop could do much with him. I'd need a replace shop.
Fond though I am of Rupert, my wife has no sentimental connection with the poor old lad, and doesn't like the musty smell he gives off. I'll have to take him to the tip the next time I visit.
We never did find out who Rupert's original owner was.