Living with Lobsters

One night early last year, I went out to a pub quiz on Sherkin, and fell in love with a lobster pot. A beautiful hand-woven lobster pot: a replica of an 'Inkwell' pot that Cornish fisherfolk introduced to these parts in the late 19th century.

I coveted it. Bought raffle tickets, hoped and hoped, didn't win. And so the year progressed, with oodles of pub quizzes, of raffles, of me hoping. I never won. I came to know the maker of the pots, went to demonstrations on how to make them; I'd point out the pots to visitors, admiringly; I just generally spent a bunch of time loving those things.

This week I'd been talking to a friend about the fact that it's looking likely that my belongings will not be forthcoming from Portugal; that I've lost them all. I'm not a big squirrel, but what I kept with me, I treasured. Big sense of loss. She wisely said that I'll get new stuff; other, different treasures.

So last night, I walked in to the pub and there was a pot. Waiting. A raffle prize. I met the maker of the pot; we joked about how long this coveting of mine had been going on.

I bought my raffle tickets (from the maker - surely a sign, I thought). First ticket drawn: not me. And you get to choose your prize, so I figured obviously, anyone would choose the pot first. But no, someone chose a bottle of champagne. Second ticket: not me. And lo and behold, the second person chose a throw. Still in with a chance.

Third ticket: not me.

Not me, but GP. GP, who's watched me not win for a year now. GP, who nonchalantly said 'what am I going to do with that?' as he gave it to me, as though it was no big deal, as though it wasn't a tremendous, generous, deeply moving act.

The maker came over, said he was glad I got it. Conversation turned to what uses it might be put to, apart from trying to catch something in an urban canal. (For when the book is done, I shall be taking it from here and trying to find it a home Out There). A long-term pot owner commented that it fits a pint glass well (tested & confirmed); other suggestions were cat cage, rounded trellis for miniature sweet pea... there are possibilities.

At home, the kitties investigated, curling around it like a yin-yang symbol. And this morning, I've just been admiring its hues and textures in the sunlight. Just revelling in its loveliness. Heartwarmed.



The Heritage Festival opens this evening, which will make for a pretty action-packed few days. Must carve out space, so there's a balance between writing and all the other treaty options.

Have a lovely weekend, folks X