It’s fun to watch the young blackbirds bathing; not as funny as the blue tits, however, which are so tiny they are up to their necks when they get in. Look at me swimming … glug …
Not much throwing lately; time to rectify this, but all spaces in this house have to multi-task, so first I had to remove from the wheel about forty agastache, bergamot and aquilegia seedlings, a tray of pricked-out snapdragons, an ounce or so of escaped potting compost, and some curly lettuce. (Obviously didn’t move them far enough, as I then trod in the lettuce. Never mind, they were annoying anyway.)
Some of the beach clay I collected last time was so fine it seemed worth trying to throw with it – most of the beach clays go for hand-building, as the coarse texture would sandpaper your fingers if it was whizzing on the wheel. This fine one is very unspringy, and, being out of practice, the first thing I made was a splot, and another effort was destroyed by an undetected small stone in the clay ball. However, there are now a few grey basics sitting on the side to play with and decorate later. I’ve no idea how this will fire.
Then it was time to exercise my civic responsibilities. Many compatriots will understand when I say that I came home with a large chocolate bar, and feeling glum.
I wonder if coloured paper and scissors and glue will make things better … and tea in a proper cup and saucer … and space opera?
Definitely space opera.