Long story short: I broke it.
It used to look like this:
Now it looks like this:
And I'm sad about that. I painted it. As you can see, I am particularly Grade-Nine-ish at painting. But I loved this piece because it was, if you can believe this, my second-best piece ever.
Now it's broken. At least I was the one who broke it, and don't risk feeling grumpy at anyone I love for doing it.
I wouldn't have minded as much if I'd broken The Olives*, which didn't quite turn out as I'd planned:
Nor if I'd broken this dud*, my first-ever piece, painted with a brush so teensy it was a joke, whacking on any colours that were available at the time. The colours turned out so different when it was fired, and the glaze showed up my amateurish brushwork. Oh - and my chunky sponge technique:
And I would certainly not have minded if I'd broken the worst-ever painted fish of all time*, which is so bad that I am too embarrassed to use this serving platter at all:
Gack. I can't believe I am showing you these. Please don't stop reading my blog because of them.
All in all, it would have been better to break something I didn't actually paint myself, despite the poor quality of my painting:
But I didn't break those, did I? Nope, I broke the fruit platter.
So now I am faced with a dilemma. Do I:
• try to mend it with superglue, keeping it very safe for ever in a place reserved for 'display pieces' even though we have no such place, and are not the sort of people to have 'display pieces' anyway, and getting upset if the children handle it roughly in case it breaks again, allowing each year of its preservation to make it more difficult to actually throw the jolly fragile-mended-broken thing out,
• take some pictures and throw the thing out now?
* -despite the fact that it cost a lot in paint and session time to actually produce.