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Hello Folks,

My name is Terry Cotter. I’m a potter.

I have been potterising for nearly two decades now. I stock a wide range of ceramic goods in my shop The Potter’s Reel, down here in Lower Swell. The shop is named after my potter’s wheel which goes round and round. Like a reel.

Did you enjoy The Olympics? I did although it went on a bit.

Since my last Column I’ve finished the mug handles I told you about and have now made the mugs. All I have to do now is attach the handles to the mugs and Bob’s Your Uncle!

Here are some reviews of some of my favourite bits from the world they call “Art”.

1. Painting

The Hay Wain –  Constable’s most famous painting.  I always thought he was a Policeman. It threw me for a while when my mate told me he wasn’t.

2. Movies

Die Hard – A bloke wearing a vest kills the bloke who played a wizard in Harry Potter. He can’t have been much of a wizard if he lets a bloke in a vest kill him. Goes on a bit.

3. Music

The Bee Gees – How Deep Is Your Love? – My fiancée went twelve feet deep once. Dropped her engagement ring down the drain you see.  She fished it out with a coat hanger.

4. Literature

Lord Of The Rings by Tolkien – A little lad with Big Feet defeats Evil by throwing his ring away. Maybe that’s what my girlfriend was trying to do all along. Goes on a bit though.

5. Pole Dancing

Thursday’s Pole Dancing class that was due to take place in the Barbers has been cancelled. Nobby has put his back out.

‘Til next time – The Wheel Keeps On Turning!

TCTP

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Some Of Terry’s Pots

Hello Folks,

My name is Terry Cotter. I’m a potter.

I have been potterising for nearly two decades now. I stock a wide range of ceramic goods in my shop The Potter’s Reel, down here in Lower Swell. The shop is named after my potter’s wheel which goes round and round. Like a reel.

Since my last Column I’ve had some good news. Upper Swell’s potter, Jay Clay, “The Funkfather Of The Throw” has had to close down due to the recession.

He used to make ashtrays with health warnings inscribed in them. Things like “Don’t hit anyone on the head with this ashtray” or “Stub out the Marlboro Light and go for a run you emphysemic bastard”. Jay told me at his closing down sale that they didn’t fly off the shelves.

Still he hope to make a go of things with his funk band “Earth n Ware n Fire”.

So, without further ado here are some reviews of some of my favourite bits from the world they call “Art”.

1. Painting

The Scream – I like this painting a lot. It shows someone screaming. I reckon they have got toothache. Probably need a spot of root canal.

2. Movies

Lawrence of Arabia – Has Camels in it so bound to be brilliant. Goes on a bit though.

3. Origami

Take a sheet of paper. Fold it four times. Voila! A Swan!

4. Poetry

Wordsworth – I like him. Handy name for a poet too. Pity his odes don’t rhyme though. I like it when they rhyme.

5. Literature

Charles Dickens – Oliver Twist – Chubby Checker read it and the rest is pop history.

Do you have any views on these pieces? If so drop me a line!

‘Til next time – The Wheel Keeps On Turning!

TCTP

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I had really enjoyed my first pottery class. Clive the course tutor had been very patient and even though my first “throw” was a little wonky in places and the handle had fallen off, I was quietly proud of my efforts.

Unfortunately I spent too long listening to Clive’s views on ceramic glazing and despite running all the way to the station missed the train for home. It would be at least an hour’s wait for the next one.

After five minutes or so I needed a pee and made my way along the Platform to the toilets. The Gents toilet had a heavy wooden door painted cream with the word “Gentlemen” painted in racing green on it.

I seized the large brass doorknob and pushed. It was an effort to open. As the door succumbed to my efforts I noticed that the toilets still retained splendid and ornate Edwardian finishings. White ceramic tiles with blue grouting, heavy brass piping to and from cisterns and intricately patterned wrought iron splash pads for the more athletic bladder. The conveniences were a gem of their kind. A real find.

I was admiring the ornate flourish of the manufacturer’s logo on the porcelain urinal when there was a rustling noise behind me. I ignored it and carried on with my tinkle. The rustling continued and was now accompanied by the sound of aged hinges creaking. I finished my business just as the shrill cry reverberated around the cool tile finish of the lavatory;

“Aiieeeee! Banzai! Banzai!”

I turned quickly, fumbling to rehouse my winkle. Again the shrill scream advanced towards me,

“Banzai, Todo, Todo. Aiieeeee!”

In front of me stood a member of the Imperial Japanese Army. He was in his late eighties and was dressed in ragged, patched battle fatigues but with a pair of Velcro fastened Reebok training shoes on his feet. He bore the insignia of a non-commissioned officer.

The soldier gurned with menace at me, baring four rotten teeth in the process. His dental hygiene regime was not of the highest order.

More worrying than halitosis was the aged rifle he pointed at me. A large steel bayonet wobbled precariously atop the barrel. Again he screamed and lunged forward. As he did so the bayonet drooped from its fastening and clattered on the floor.

My assailant muttered, probably an expletive in Japanese, bent down picked up the bayonet and began to berate it in a world weary manner. He lost interest in me and retreated to the toilet cubicle, closing its squeaking door behind him. He fumbled with his rifle. Again the bayonet clattered to the floor. Again he swore. A small wizened hand scurried around the cubicle floor until it seized the bayonet.

Even in all this excitement I remembered to complete my ablutions and gave my hands a thorough soaping and rinsing. A Dyson hand dryer had recently been fixed to the wall. Although out of keeping with the ambience of the rest of the toilet my hands were dried in an instant.

Had the fitter been confronted I wondered?

The sign on the ticket office window said “Back in 5 Mins”. Fully seven minutes elapsed before a man appeared. A bucked tooth harridan who could eat an apple through a letterbox.

“Yes sir, how can I help?”

“Did you know there is a Japanese Soldier in your toilet?”

“Met him then? Old Hidetoshi. Lovely old feller ain’t he?” The man replied in a broad West Country accent, “Been here since 1942 or summat like that. Still a few of them dug in on the Somerset border apparently.”

“Haven’t you told him the war’s over?”

“Countless times. The fact of the matter is – he’s can’t face going home defeated. Reckons he will bring shame on his family. So he lives here. In the toilet cubicle.”

There was a cruel matter of factness about the man’s attitude. “Besides,” he continued, “Hidetoshi is a dab hand at the old Bonsai malarkey. He’s helped us win the Station in Bloom competition for the past twenty years now. Wiped the smile off Reg Belcher’s face down at Cam and Dursley I can tell you. Go and take a look. Down at the bottom of Platform 1.”

I sauntered to the end of Platform 1. The man was correct. The small garden with bonsai trees, maple timber decking and a very attractive miniature water feature really was a sight to behold. The pebbles surrounding the trees has been individually shaped to provide a pattern of doves in flight. Tranquillity personified.

I walked back to the ticket office. As I walked past the toilet door I noticed it was slightly ajar. An aged rifle and bayonet protruded. Again the bayonet fell to the floor. Again I heard Japanese expletives.

The “Back in 5 Mins” sign had been put up in the ticket office window once more. I sat in the small waiting room and turned my attention to the mysteries of ceramic glazing.

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