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I just had a great weekend, talking pots and drinking beer, how could life ever be better?
As I mentioned last week, John Edgeler is writing a book about the Fishleys of Fremington so this morning I climbed through all the junk that's piled up in my garage, in order to reach my pottery collection which has been packed away in boxes since we moved. Fortunately I've labelled all the boxes so I know what's in them and was able to find some old Fremington pots that I haven't seen for a long time. It's great to see them again. These pieces will be photographed for inclusion in the book which is due for publication in September.
I keep quite a few Fremington pots up at the workshop too for inspiration(and to hide them from Hil if she doesn't know I've bought them), including this huge, beautifully thrown, late nineteenth century crock.
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The weather has been lovely all weekend, which has encouraged the countryside to continue bursting its buds, but has also dried out the pots which have been preserved beneath polythene since Saturday. I've been turning bowls frantically tonight and throwing on their footrings. Loads more to do tomorrow, they range from the largest at about 400mm diameter, to the smallest at 240mm.
Today was interrupted by celebrations as our local football team Exeter City F.C. deservedly won the semi-finals of the play-offs against local rivals Torquay. The boys were over the moon. It put me in a good mood and I was joined at about six o'clock by Marky Mark who had also won in the game he had played today, so we worked away happily into the evening.
None of this will make much sense to anyone overseas and probably nobody here will care too much either!
I'm not a huge football fan, I barely watch even if England are playing, but we often go as a family to the match. Similar to making pottery it fulfills that desire for great expectations, the excitements and the disappointments. We none of us in our house care for the top flight teams, Manchester United etc., that's all about moneymaking for PLC's with overpaid primadonnas, but despite a technically lower standard of play, life is never dull at our local club - we even had Uri Gellar and Michael Jackson as directors briefly, it's true.
So City'll be playing in the final at Wembley in a couple of weeks. Hil and the boys are going to go, but I'll be up at Clay Art Wales and will miss it, just like I did last year - drat!!!