Bank holiday Monday and I wake up about 8 o’clock after a medium nights sleep and feel better than yesterday. My partner brings coffee and we figure out our next move. Breakfast obviously, but then what. In reality my partner needs to go back the shop where she bought a pair of sandals which when she walked up stairs in them broke! We ran through the usual “taking things back” scenarios. “Stroppy assistant” is always high on the list. We were prepared for any excuse that could be offered. Our killer argument was to be that the Roman army overran Europe and forged an empire wearing sandals so no excuse will do. Had the sandal not been made for going up stairs then ancient Britain’s would have built staircases all round Britain and the Roman invasion would have floundered. Every centurion would have flailed their arms in despair and told their legions “we’re buggered men they have built staircases , we just don’t have the foot wear to invade,” and retuned to plunder the rest of the staircase less Mediterranean. Anyway we were ready with our killer argument as we drove the garden centre where the shop is. As it turned out the assistant was lovely, offered options and did the rebate with out a single tut or grimace.
We drove away content and moved onto the next garden centre to buy more plants for my partner’s mother’s patio pots and for our front garden pots. The place was packed but we managed to park creatively and get in and out without too much bother. Bank holiday humanity at garden centres is not at its best. So once home its coffee and a relax. I set about recording and identifying the makers of the pottery that we brought back from London. I photograph it all and the makers marks and then go agoogling. I was able to identify all eight of the potters responsible for the items, three of whom are now dead. So I now have a computer file of images and have learnt quite a lot about modern ceramics along the way. Below I share a pot by Matt Horne, still alive, and a vase (I think) by Robin Welch, now dead.
Once I have satisfied my curiosity I go to the garden and plant the fuchsias that we got this morning. They all go into the pots at the front of the house except one that I reserve for the back garden. Its seems to be hard work and I am aware that I am rapidly running out of spoons. I judicially prune one of my small olive trees that is struggling but showing signs of recovery. I put my tools away and head for the lounge to start to draft the blog and to see if I can find the maker of a piece of glass. It is signed but it is unreadable so I am hunting the internet. As far as I can tell its by an Australian called Gerry Reilly but the signature on the piece is unreadable. Good with glass just never learnt to write his name properly I guess.
Its an interesting object that looks very much like the work of Gerry Reilly but the signature looks nothing like his name. So I guess there is an email and a picture to be sent. I eat dinner and indulge myself with a brandy in the hope it will settle my stomach. I sniff it and only wet my lips with it, it lasts ages. It lasts three episodes of Steel Town Murders by which time I am spoonless and beyond any sane or sensible thought, which given that tomorrow is an oncology review in the morning might not be good. I take my night meds, more paracetamol, finish the blog for the day and head for bed. Going to be a tricky 24 hours I think. Here goes.
