POT-PAINTING At a pinch we might have been able to squeeze a couple more into the studio, but it would undoubtedly have been at a price. For a start, the table that had been dedicated to act as a general repository for the raffle prizes, the digital photograph frame – running a continuous loop of coloured images ‘borrowed’ from this year’s Mongol Rally – and a crate or two of wine could easily have been reclassified.
It was a slow start: fifteen minutes before the allotted time the warm studio stood waiting. With tables aligned carefully with chairs, they bore a number of small containers lined in numerical order, together with a similarly numbered sample-chart. What looked like being a divine shade of pale blue in the plastic container would, when fired, turn into something much more akin to Cobalt. In similar vein, the pot containing the pale flesh-coloured pinkish hue would be transformed into something resembling Poppy-Red. Boring mushroom becomes a vibrant orange, and the bland-looking jaundice-yellow was destined to transpose into Sunflower….
With coats and bags duly shut away, the studio’s pristine appearance rapidly deteriorated to adopt the persona of a typical village schoolroom, and the infants’ class at that. Chatter, giggles, and the occasional double-entendre. ‘Ohhhh’s’ and ‘Ahhh’s,’ followed by the surreptitious glug-glug sound of red wine as it hit the sides of empty glasses. The bowls containing a variety of crisps and salted peanut nibbles needed constant replenishment, and the fact that a Fish-&-Chip supper was waiting in the wings seemed to do little to slow pace of the rampant ‘come-and-eat-me’ temptation.
Undecorated piles of white goods [all made in China] were stacked on deep shelving around two of the walls: atop each pile and displayed in various places around the room were examples of the finished product – the plates and bowls, the mugs, the egg-cups and coasters – both square and round, Butter dishes, and money boxes. Fairies, and griffins – or it certainly looked like a griffin. Hunch-backed with rather disproportional pointed ears – and a wart-like texture to the skin – it bore more than a striking resemblance to one of my relatives.
Now it’s time to play something called ‘Devil’s Advocate’. Easy, just match the ‘pot’ to the ‘punter’. This requires skill and a certain level of diplomacy. Starting with an exquisitely posed bisque ballerina, she was to end up with lush brown hair and a dress of cobalt blue. Let’s just hope that Mr Jarrett had the sense to remember that the pale flesh-coloured pinkish hue he may have chosen to decorate her face and arms would be transformed into something resembling Poppy-Red.…..
Further along the pine table our friend from Meopham could be found decorating a cereal-sized breakfast bowl. Having made a cracking start by painting the whole of the inside the same shade of blue – a shade currently unknown but from memory it had been selected from a pot in the early teens – he went on to apply fish-shaped stencils to the outside. Stencils, you note, nothing as crude – or even artistic – as hand-drawn creations. The fish were then painted, presumably with something that would finish up looking remotely goldfish coloured – but did he really intend to leave the ground white? What turned from being a cheery breakfast bowl – something to contain a large handful of golden, crunchy cornflakes – suddenly became dangerously close to looking like a pottery container suitable for holding nothing more than a couple of tins of Whiskers For Cats.
The ladies were similarly flummoxed. Notwithstanding the fact that we’d arranged for a Charlie Boorman look-alike to judge the item with the most apt decoration – bearing in mind the whole purpose of the party – they opted to decorate a range of nursery plates, pottery frogs, the odd owl and a three-story piggyback pig money-bank. Then there was the usual abundance of trinket boxes and – thankfully – at least one griffin.
By eight-thirty the sound of joyous gaiety was interrupted by the more ominous sound of rumbling gastronomically-retarded intestines, and it became abundantly clear that it was time to cease painting an intricate design on the cheapest coaster that I could find, lay the thin, one-haired paintbrush to one side and take the order for food: to be brutally honest it was a job that didn’t take very long: the choice was either Fish and Chips, Sausage and Chips or, at a pinch, one of the two vegetarian options – a Spring Roll and Chips, or a plate of Chips and Chips.
Within twenty minutes the food parcel was delivered, courtesy of two young ladies. Part-painted plates were suddenly pushed aside in favour of their C21st blown polystyrene equivalents, the contents of which were soon smothered with a copious amount of tomato ketchup squirted from plastic sachets that resembled something procured from a white enamel machine bolted to the wall in the Gentlemen’s toilet. And maybe the Ladies toilet as well, for all I know.
The Charlie Boorman look-alike failed to materialize to make the judging, so the task fell to the landlord of our local pub. He, too, seemed a tad confused about the topic and chose a bland, namby-pamby plate decorated with a multi-coloured caterpillar – not that I’m resentful or harbour a grudge! The grateful recipient won a DVD, and at least it was a prize that was topical. Legend of the Lost, starring John Wayne and Sophia Loren.
If you don’t see the significance of the award then I respectfully suggest you Google it.