Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I’m a potter, right? Just me, my wheel, and a whole lotta clay. But today? Today was a wild ride in High Barnet.
I woke up, bleary-eyed, and thought, “Today’s the day!” I had a big order to finish for this café on Barnet High Street. You know, the one with the cute little outdoor seating? Yeah, that one. I was pumped. But then, as I’m loading my stuff into the van, I realize I forgot my favorite apron. Ugh! It’s like forgetting your lucky socks before a big game.
So, I dash back inside, nearly tripping over my cat, Mr. Whiskers. That little furball thinks he owns the place. Anyway, I grab the apron and head out. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinking, “This is gonna be a good day.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
I get to the studio on St. Albans Road, and it’s like a scene from a horror movie. My clay is all dried up! I mean, come on! Who does that? I’m standing there, staring at this lump of rock-hard clay like it’s the end of the world. I could’ve screamed. Instead, I just muttered some choice words under my breath.
So, I run to the local shop on the corner of Barnet Road. You know, the one with the dodgy parking? Yeah, that one. I’m in there, frantically looking for fresh clay, and the shopkeeper, old Mr. Patel, is just chuckling at me. “You need help, mate?” he says. I’m like, “Nah, just looking for a miracle.”
Finally, I find some clay. I’m feeling a bit better, but then I realize I’ve got a meeting with the café owner in, like, 30 minutes. Panic mode activated! I rush back to the studio, and I’m throwing that clay on the wheel like I’m in some pottery Olympics.
But then, just as I’m getting into the groove, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate Dave. He’s like, “You coming to the pub later?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m in the zone!” But then I think, “A pint wouldn’t hurt.” So, I text him back, “Maybe after I save the world with this pottery.”
I finally finish the pieces just in time. I load them up and head to the café. It’s on the High Street, and the vibe is buzzing. People are chatting, sipping lattes, and I’m just trying to keep my cool. I walk in, and the owner, Sarah, is all smiles. “Wow, these are amazing!” she says. I’m like, “Yeah, I know. I’m a genius.”
But then, as I’m setting up, I knock over a whole stack of cups. They go crashing to the floor. I swear, it felt like slow motion. Everyone turns to look, and I’m just standing there, mortified. I could’ve crawled under a rock. But then, Sarah starts laughing, and soon everyone else joins in. I’m like, “Great, now I’m the clown of High Barnet.”
After that, I needed a drink. So, I head to The Old Red Lion. It’s a classic pub, right? I walk in, and it’s packed. I spot Dave at the bar, and he’s waving me over. “You made it!” he shouts. I’m like, “Barely!”
We grab a couple of pints, and I start telling him about my day. He’s cracking up, especially at the cup disaster. “Only you, mate,” he says. “Only you.”
As the night goes on, I’m feeling good. The stress of the day melts away. I’m surrounded by mates, laughter, and the smell of chips frying. I think to myself, “This is what it’s all about.”
So, yeah, High Barnet, you’ve got your ups and downs. But at the end of the day, it’s home. And even when it throws curveballs, it’s still a place where you can find a laugh, a pint, and maybe even a bit of magic in the clay. Cheers to that!