Thursday, November 08, 2012

Gentleman, pot and open cup.

1. I get the recycling boxes out of the cupboard, and stack them up in the kitchen, muttering about my poor tired body. Then something really nice happens: Alec insists, in a rather gentlemanly manner, on pushing them (they are nearly as tall as he is, so he can't lift them) all the way to the front door.

2. We walk to the top of town and pick up the pot that I made and then glazed a year later. It is beautiful: the greens and blacks of the sea in Cornwall, and there are my fingerprints on the bottom in the glaze. Alec and I have tea and a chat with Brigit Head. I learn an awful lot.

3. I love to see Alec drinking from an open cup, which he holds in both hands.