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A Potter's Moll: 'Don't They Have Policemen?'

...Thomastown is that lovely Irish thing – a proper town with one main street with a variety of shops, pubs and services with no chain stores in sight. Last time we were there there was a minor traffic jam because a lorry driver had abandoned his vehicle to go and get a takeaway. An irate woman tourist a few cars back craned her neck over the cars in front and said: ‘Don’t they have policemen?’

Liz Robison and potter husband Jim are off to Ireland.

For more of Liz’s delicious columns please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/a_potters_moll/

And do visit Jim’s web site http://www.jimrobison.co.uk/

A short dispatch from me this time – more gallivanting afoot. This time it’s off to Thomastown, Co Kilkenny, Eire, where husband/potter Jim will demonstrate his brand of hand built ceramics to an audience of Irish potters. The venue is an old mill by a fast-running stream. I shall dip in and out of events there and explore the area for the rest of the time.

Thomastown is that lovely Irish thing – a proper town with one main street with a variety of shops, pubs and services with no chain stores in sight. Last time we were there there was a minor traffic jam because a lorry driver had abandoned his vehicle to go and get a takeaway. An irate woman tourist a few cars back craned her neck over the cars in front and said: ‘Don’t they have policemen?’

They do indeed, and once when our car battery was flat in Clifden, Galway, the Gardai told us to hold on while he went back to the station for some jump leads.

Road travel is an ever-growing bugbear for me. A journey that used to take under three hours now takes over four. Down the M1 to Harrow was a nightmare on Saturday due to road works and back up on Sunday due to volume of traffic and torrential rain.

The journey from here in Holmfirth, West Yorkshire, to Pudsey, between Leeds and Bradford on Monday was hellish, not least because of terrible ‘city’ driving: diving across lanes in bursts of acceleration with lots of aggression and little courtesy.

In Harrow and Pudsey, however, we had family fun. My sister and kids and grandkids welcomed us to a warm sunny garden meal, and evening. Later four of us had a candlelit poetry reading of some of our favourite verses. Magic. In Pudsey we were able to help our eldest son to transform a dowdy flowery bathroom and hear all about his recent month long USA odyssey with his thirteen year old stepson.

No rest for the retired! More from me in a fortnight.

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