Sunday, 13 December 2015

All Dressed UP and Nowhere To Go.

Decided not to do any Christmas Markets this year, couldn't bear the thought of standing in cold marquees, draughty halls, theatre foyers watching folks walk by looking for stocking fillers and porcelain Christmas tree decorations. The last couple of years I have sold very little anyway and after coming down with flu just in time for the festive day and the long awaited Goose lunch, due to spending three days in a cheerless freezing tent, I came to the conclusion it wasn't worth it.

Yet it's very strange not to be whizzing around, packing the van, worrying about not having enough pots, never seeing daylight, coming back to a cold home at some ungodly hour and unpacking almost all the pots again.

Christmas Markets are not very Christmassy after all. We all do it in the hope of selling loads of stuff and there's not much Christmas spirit in that. The word Market somehow conjures up the thought of a bargain, something not too expensive, put it in a basket and folks think it's a good price and the basket soon empties whilst everything else still sits there despite the tinsel and holly. "What's yer best price mate" they all chime.




Instead it has been very enjoyable making the pots that I want to make, try and complete a few of the thoughts and ideas that have been banging around in my head for a while, but no real time to develop them. Play around with some wood and make lids for all those boxes I made and fired last summer that are just gathering dust. After all this is what I set out to do all those years ago before I got distracted by the lure of a bit of cash for Christmas. To make pots that speak for me, that say what I want them to say, not just provide a table full of pots to fill a need for someone else's perceived Christmas shopping list, when they really don't know what that is except that it must fit a budget, a number that they are not sure of either.

Best price?

Peace and goodwill to all.