Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I woke up in my wee flat on High Street, right? The sun was shining, birds chirping, and I thought, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
First off, I had a big order to finish. Some fancy mugs for a café on the Esplanade. You know, the one with the killer views of the Firth of Forth? Yeah, that one. I was all set to throw some clay, but then my kiln decided to throw a tantrum. Like, come on! It’s not a toddler! It’s a kiln!
So, I’m rushing down to the pottery studio on Kirk Wynd, dodging folks and their dogs. Seriously, why do people let their dogs roam free? I nearly tripped over a wee terrier. I swear it was plotting my demise. Anyway, I get to the studio, and the kiln’s like, “Nah, mate, not today.” I’m fuming.
Then, outta nowhere, my mate Dave pops in. He’s got this ridiculous grin on his face. “You’ll never guess what!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, I’m about to lose it over this kiln. What could possibly be more important?” Turns out, he won a local art competition. I’m happy for him, but also, like, why can’t I catch a break?
So, I’m trying to be supportive, right? But inside, I’m like, “Why can’t I win something?!” I mean, I’ve been slinging clay for ages! Anyway, we head to the pub on the corner of Whyte’s Causeway to celebrate. I order a pint, and Dave’s all, “You should’ve entered!” I’m like, “Yeah, but I was busy fixing my kiln!”
After a couple of pints, I’m feeling a bit better. We’re laughing, reminiscing about our school days at Kirkcaldy High. Remember the time we tried to sneak into the old swimming pool? Classic! But then, I get a text. It’s from the café. They want the mugs by tomorrow. My heart drops.
I rush back to the studio, and guess what? The kiln’s finally working! I’m like, “Thank you, sweet pottery gods!” But then, I realize I’ve got no time to finish the designs. I’m slapping on glazes like a madman. I’m talking splashes of color everywhere. It’s chaos!
While I’m in the zone, I hear a knock. It’s Mrs. McGregor from down the street. She’s got this massive bag of potatoes. “Thought you might need these,” she says. I’m like, “Thanks, but I’m kinda busy!” She just laughs and says, “You can’t live on clay alone!”
I mean, she’s not wrong. But I’m like, “I’m a potter, not a chef!” Still, I take the spuds. You never know when you’ll need a good potato.
Finally, I finish the mugs. They’re a bit wonky, but whatever. I load them into the kiln, praying they don’t explode. I’m sweating bullets. I can’t believe I’m doing this last-minute scramble.
As I’m leaving, I bump into a couple of tourists. They’re lost, looking for the Kirkcaldy Galleries. I’m like, “You’re in luck! Just head down to the next roundabout, take a left, and you’ll see it.” They thank me, and I feel a bit like a local hero.
But then, I remember I still need to pick up some dinner. I swing by the chippy on the way home. Best fish and chips in town, no contest. I order a large portion, and the guy behind the counter gives me a cheeky wink. “You’re gonna need it after today!”
I get home, plop down on my couch, and dig into the chips. They’re crispy, golden, and everything I needed. I’m thinking about how wild Kirkcaldy can be. One minute you’re stressed about pottery, the next you’re celebrating with mates, and then you’re helping lost tourists.
As I finish my meal, I glance at the clock. It’s late, but I can’t help but smile. Tomorrow’s another day. I’ll tackle those mugs, and who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get my break. But for now, I’m just a tired potter, living in Kirkcaldy, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.