Roll away the stone...

One of my gorgeous neighbours is incredibly talented, and sculpts, paints and creates in her lady shed at the end of her garden. So when she sent me a message a couple of weeks ago asking if I fancied being a guinea pig for a new pottery project she is thinking about, I of course signed both me and the husband up for it.

The husband is very used to being dragged along to various things that I want to go to (Dirty Dancing last Saturday - now that deserves a blog of its own altogether) so he acquiesced with a small whimper, whilst muttering something about '...on a school night as well'. 

However....

In between agreeing to accompany me and actually getting his hands on some clay, the Mother (she with the Fairy Dust Syndrome) had to come to stay that night with us.  As you know, I couldn't really leave her in a strange house on her own, so I said to the husband that I would take her in his place to the pottery session.  Well ladies, he tried really hard to appear sad, even going so far to suggest that 'perhaps we could all go', but in the end, it was just me and the Mother who trolleyed down that evening armed with pinnies, a torch and a bottle of wine. (Even without the pottery, this sounds like a great night).

When I arrived, my dear friend Mrs W was there already.  'Where's the husband then?' I asked her.  Well apparently, the word had gone round that my husband had received a reprieve, so Mr W didn't fancy being the token male with a gaggle of drunken women and a large slab of clay. I think he'd probably seen Ghost too many times and feared the worst.   'I did ask her at number 37, but she had a haggis to play around with so couldn't be tempted away'.  This comment rendered me useless for about two minutes, and it's a vision unlikely to leave my brain for some time.

So six ladies, armed with three bottles of wine, a slab of clay and various implements which looked like they'd been released from the London Dungeon for the day, finally created six bird feeders, which are currently residing on a shelf trying to dry out (which was a bit like me and the Mother the next day actually).  The Mother's one was delicate and beautifully decorated with leaves and will take pride of place on her bird feeding station once finished.  

Now I appreciate that I was helping her a little bit, but my creation was another story.  Large enough to feed any visiting emus, and heavy enough to not run the risk of hanging it anywhere.  I have a vision of it spending its days huddled in the border being a hedgehog home over the winter, and then spending the summer months being moved around to various destinations, while all the feathered visitors to my garden lie on their backs with their spindly legs in the air laughing their beaks off.  

I think I might be better off staying away from the clay and sticking to my keyboard.  

Unless the husband brings home a potter's wheel and some clay and asks me if I fancy watching Ghost again...