1. We hear Kaufman before we see him – he’s spotted his big sister Lily is in the garden and he meows hello to her his whole way up the steps. When we let him into the office, he mews and mews his news, then sits on the sofa for a wash: when he holds and licks the tip of his tail, I melt into a puddle.
2. The final letter of the stencil drops a few centimetres as I’m setting them on the clay – oh hello, that looks much better than them all in a line.
2b. I throw my first (post-course) perfect cylinder on the wheel then transfer it to a board without squishing it. (I then drop it, destroying it, but let’s focus on the first bit, eh?)
2c. A fat, wide cylinder to finish.
2d. I don’t expect the texture of the broken down clay – it looks grainy, like cous cous, but is so wet that moves like liquid. We pull big dollops out of the bucket and slop them onto the slab.
3. Just as the bus arrives, the plastic bag handles stretch and break – it is such a slow process that I have time to lower the back to the floor (so my pots don’t smash) and for the lady in front of me reach into her bag to hand me a spare carrier.