Went outside with the girls on a sunny day. There is something good about living in the world's scruffiest house - photos always look so chic and worn. Caught in the right way, things never look decrepit, instead they look vintage-y. As long as you can't see the massive squishy dead spider that I accidentally caught in the shed door. It was its own fault - if you are getting so big I can see the curls on your knuckles, I will scream and slam the door, even if you have evolved to the size where there is a chance your brain will be trying to learn to communicate intelligently.
These fruit are some I did a while back but, although liked by others often, favourited many times on Etsy, no-one has wanted to make them theirs. I shouldn't put genitals on fruit, is the possible lesson I perhaps should take away from this, but if not on fruit then what? fruit deserve genitals. They look like genitals too often for this not to be a recurring thought.
Been looking at other ceramicists for a while, and am slightly obsessed by the work of Bonnie Marie Smith. I can't get enough of her figures' tiny hands and feet. They have an amazing amount of sadness to them without ever becoming sentimental, and therefore chintzy and little old lady trinket-y - something not easy. Well worth checking out on Instagram. See https://www.instagram.com/bonniemariesmith/?hl=en
Also my constant companion are the podcasts of Adam Buxton at the moment - I adore that little trampy man. I would have him popping out of my bins saying hello any day of the week. He and his little band of walking wounded middle-class middle aged men - I just want to give them a big hug, a cup of hot (grown-up) tea, a hair ruffle and get them on their way. And of course Adam Buxton's interview with the person who I could listen to swear, and smoke all day - Kathy Burke, is a joy.