Just back from a ceramics workshop. I am shattered. My wrists hurt, my back is sore and I feel as if I have been manhandling something quite ungovernable all morning. Reminiscent of a Greek Cypriot baptism with the oily and slithery baby writhing about in the priest’s hands. I was having similar feelings of just hanging on with the piece of clay in front of me. It was spinning wildly, in my wet and slippery fingers, determined to slip my grasp.

And it all looked so easy. Our 23yr old Instructor Liv was a mistress of the caress as she glided her fingers up and down the obliging form, opening and closing at her whim. A couple of the good stuff on show.

In my hands, it was a mad slash of a lump spinning around and quite determined not to centre itself where I was hoping – that wobble and jiggle happened more frequently than I could count. Once that happens apparently its a goner ! Lots of clay went into the recycle bin, let alone splashing up. Liv came round a couple of times pressing my right hand down to control the quivering mass and my left to cup it on top. After a while she gave up and watched bemused.

Finally, after a few trials a pot appeared – thick and uneven with bits all over the place but it had the semblance of one and she caught my eye smiled broadly and said – “SEE” with the comfort of a teacher to a five year old.

I produced three lamentable vessels which are currently being fired – watch this space for their reveal. I came home covered in clay, in my hair, face and clothes and up my sleeve near my elbow. God knows where else.

Thanks Nick for the Xmas present. My future does not hold pottery as a possibility but I do have renewed respect for all you potters out there!

You know who you are – Comments below.