My last handmade one, which only really earned any affection in my eyes by virtue of its longevity, for it was an unlovely thing in chocolate brown with clumsy white slip designs and a pointless bulge which trapped the tannin, cracked and broke a few months ago. I went through too many mass-produced supermarket ones, all of which broke at the handle.
Then on a trip to Josselin at the weekend, we found this one in a craft potter's studio. It is my favourite colour, and I wash and dry it carefully. It drinks very well; I advise putting one's lip to the rim of any mug before buying it; with some, however nice they look, the profile is wrong and drinking from them will never be a pleasure.
Behind the mug in the above picture, is a bamboo chopping board, made from an offcut of a piece of shelving, oiled with olive oil. Holding the chopping boards in place - there are some less pleasing plastic ones behind - is a large granite pebble. It used to be used to hold open silly French windows (as opposed to French windows aka French doors), which always open inward because of the presupposition of shutters, and do not have any means to hook them open.
Woman cannot live by found objects alone, of course, lovely though they are - whoever found a perfect tea mug just lying around on a beach or cut off some larger object in her husband's workroom?
(On the other hand Tom's tea mug was a kind of found object, a freebie from the Folio Society, who inveigled us into joining years ago with the promise of something irresistible, like a brand new edition of Brewer's Phrase and Fable, and have pestered us ever since. It has horrid little maroon medallions on it with 'FS' in them. But Tom loves it because I made the mistake of telling him FS stood for Fantastic Superperson, and the vessel goes on and on, so it seems as of the glaze will actually wear off before it actually breaks.)
Enough, this was supposed to be a ten minute post...