I started working with clay in 1972 at an introductory weekend course at Skipton College of Further Education where I spent about 6 hours battling with the potter’s wheel. Not being one for giving in too easily I went home and within a week had built a wooden frame and using the innards of an old washing machine (plus our son’s redundant baby bath for a wheel tray), ended up with my first wheel. It did a constant 60 revs a minute, but that didn’t matter, I was away. Now, thankfully, it is no longer a battle: but it still holds the same intrigue, fascination and pleasure. The same sense of being part of a tradition, acquiring skills where at some point you lose the process and it all becomes intuition. Good pots and ceramic works inspire me, regardless of their source or culture. Hopefully we get to the stage when we know something is right, is wholesome, in our own work and that of others.