Some Clay At School

You can start with this. I mean, it’s not exactly cutting political analysis, but as previously discussed, bollocks to that.

Instead, by way of starting off gentle, like — starting a run-up, as it were — I’m going to show you this little guy from my folks’ garden.

I made this. It’s meant to be an owl. I know, I know. But it was when I was a tiny kid, so don’t blame me, all right? We were given some clay at school and told to make a money box. So I made an owl. A shit one, I’ll be the first to admit, but it was at least supposed to be an owl.

It didn’t do well, though, because the teacher told us to leave our creations with her overnight and she’d fire them. Only in the process she dropped mine on the floor and squished one of its ears (the one on the left of the picture).

Being fairly well-meaning — or possibly just not giving a fuck, I’ve never been sure which — the teacher diligently reconstructed the squished ear and fired the thing anyway.

And it had pride of place at the bottom of one of my drawers for years and then at some point about a decade ago my folks decided it’d make a good garden ornament, so they ornamented the garden with it. And more power to them, I say. It’s always seemed quite happy there.

Terrifying, yes, but happy.

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