Embracing a challenge set via a social media post by Bute artist, Ruth Slater, the children in P5-7 each created a piece of writing inspired by photographs of pieces of china Ruth had collected from the beaches of Bute.  Ruth was so delighted to hear that we were engaging with her challenge that she sent us a package containing the pieces of china to fuel our creativity.  Here are a few examples of our writing.

Broken by Skye Rose

I was once a piece of pottery. I was formed by clay and cooked in an oven to become a vase, my flowers spreading across my body. I sat by a window watching the world move around me and I found it exciting to see people staring at me (though sometimes it was a bit creepy). One day I was doing the same things I always did, I sat and I looked amazing whilst people looked down and admired me. When the crowds had calmed down another vase was gently popped down beside me, it looked exactly like me. I knew that this vase was a copy of me but I stayed calm and started talking to it.  My twin was kind and calm (just like me) and it was always fun to have a little chat about where all the other pieces of pottery were going.

A few weeks later someone came over to me and my twin, and called over a guy that I had never seen before, they started squeaking about something (probably me) and before I knew it, I had been picked up and covered in tiny bubbles (that popped if you squeezed one) and put into a brown box. I sat in the box wondering what was happening around me but the box was so dark and cosy I closed my eyes for the very first time.

When I woke up I was on top of a table with a strange liquid inside me, I soon saw the same person that had been looking at me, they came over and placed some colourful flowers in my vase. They felt tickly at first but I soon got used to it. When dinner came along I saw the whole family sit down around me but when I saw the little one I got nervous. I had heard of stories of these little people from my friends before they went missing but I had never actually met one before.

My good friend dog plate said that so many pieces of pottery smash because of them, and when pottery smashes it goes in the bin forever! I had always thought that tiny people didn’t exist, that only large people existed. I was going to be smashed and thrown into that monstrous bin soon I just knew it, I would never see dog plate or my twin ever again!

Dinner had finished and I was still a full vase. (Phew.)  After a few weeks later I had gotten used to the tiny person and started to not worry so much about getting crushed by the bin so I wasn’t expecting what was going to happen next. The family sat down at the dinner table and placed down plates of food on the cloth that was covering the old oak. They started to eat and talk to each other like they always did sharp pointy things in their hands, the little one stretched over to grab a red sauce and CRASH! All of a sudden someone was crying, water was everywhere and that’s the last thing I remember of that night.

When I woke up I had no idea where I was. It was dark and disgusting there and I felt like I had been broken into a thousand pieces and at that second I knew I was in the bin. I was so scared. I didn’t know what would become of me, now that I was just a broken vase. Nobody could possibly want a useless broken piece of pottery like me. No one. I hid away my emotions and tried to forget my life with dog plate, my twin, and the family that I had grown to like.

I fell asleep. Nothing on earth could wake me up. So I didn’t wake up when the bin I was in was being emptied, or when the dump truck took me away, not even me sailing off into the sea away from land woke me up. I was going into the unknown.

If I had been awake I would have seen all the wonders of the sea, I would have seen the colours of the ocean and the shooting stars at night, but I didn’t. The seals would bounce me along my way and the dolphins would nudge me across the great blue abyss but I missed all of it, my mind deep covered by a clay shell. I don’t know how long I was in the ocean. I didn’t know what my future held. All I knew was the voices in my head telling me to wake up, “Wake up,” they would say, “Wake up.”  They would get louder and louder and finally I had had enough!

I slowly opened my eyes. I slowly opened them, not knowing what I would open my eyes too. I saw a woman. She looked down at me with eyes of wonder. She slowly lent down and picked me up carefully. I felt the warmth of her hand and the touch of love.  I knew, at that second, that I was going to go to a new home.  I knew that I was wrong about these creatures. I knew someone could love a broken piece of pottery like me.

My life with this creature was a good one. I had new friends that had stories just like mine, they always were free to have a chat about out worries and when new ones came we welcomed them with open arms.

I never saw dog plate or my twin again. I never saw my first and best friends again, but in my heart I knew that they too had found good homes. I knew that I would never see them again because they would never have the same fate as me. Of course, they would have new friends, and they would never forget about me. But they had their own lives now and they would never come in contact with mine again but…

I was happy.

 

Miss Lily and Her Pottery by Catriona

Miss Lily lived in a cottage by the beach.

For fun she made pottery – plates, vases and all.

So one day she was inspired by her little flowery cottage, she embedded an imprint of her cottage and flowers in a china tea set and a vase.

So happy she was and had tea with her cat, a bowl for the cat and a cup and saucer for her resting on her lap.

They had a splendid time just her, her cat and her flowery china.

Her flowers were so delicate –

Primroses with heart shaped ends,

Roses surrounded by buzzing bees, bluebells the colour of the deep blue sea, ivy curling, twirling and whirling, Winding itself round the cottage until it covered

All of the sandy, pearly wall and her poppies – scarlet and tall, meaningful to all.

Then she picked some poppies and placed them in the vase.

And displayed it outside, then Lily retreated back inside.

One night the waves grew reckless and rough, and a storm blew up some terrible gusts.

Lily’s poor flowers were battered and blown – no more primroses with heart shaped ends,

or roses with their sweet smell, no bluebells with their deep blue sea colours, no more of

her favourite poppies all scarlet and tall and barely any ivy – all stripped from the wall,

showing the pearly white wall behind it. All the petals fell like confetti. Lily woke up with the spattering against her window. She rushed outside to retrieve her favourite vase but to her great surprise, the vase had taken a crushing demise.

It had fallen down, down, down onto the beach and

was swept far, far, far out into the ocean.

by the tide. She adored that vase and never used that tea set again for one piece will always

be missing … her beloved vase.

So now I sit with Miss old Lily in a care home showing her my beach art. She exclaims with

delight and then tears roll down her cheeks with sadness and she thanks me.  She says I have

found a piece of her treasure.  Her most precious possession.  I have found a piece of her

Beloved Vase.