Two of my favourite things converged this
week – old, dear friends in town and a trip to the theatre.
Back in my Bondi days O and I dedicated
every Wednesday morning during that prolonged moment of ‘06 otherwise known as
occasional-part-time-work-but-really-just-unemployment to pottery classes at
the Pavilion. It was cathartic, creative, messy and always ended with a
smoothie and a stroll along the promenade. For tense, frequently miserable
days, they were a consistent weekly highlight.
After several terms we had more ceramic arte than we really knew what to do with
but that was never really the point of the exercise.