The slight breeze of the air conditioning did nothing to cool off your anger as you failed yet again to make a simple pinch pot, each time the walls had collapsed or cracked.

You frustration was clear in the way you scrunched your eyebrows together and squinted your eyes in contempt.

Gaz noticed this and walked over, grabbing some clay and walking you through the process. “Just be gentle, take it slow.” He encouraged, watching as your hands struggled to repeat his own.