Salty shark pig
(Shark ‘salt pig’: Glasgow, Scotland)
Garnethill is the name of the promontory in Glasgow where I live. Although it stretches only from Cowcaddens to St Georges Cross one way and Chinatown to Sauchiehall Street the other*, it offers a surprisingly vast array of amenities. It is two minutes walk from a subway station, it has its own small park, a church, affiliated school, nursery, several corner shops, curry house, university, a dental hospital, countless guest houses, a National Trust tourism site and a ceramics workshop. It is the last on that long list that I wish to bring your attention to today.
I walk past the small ‘Fireworks’ studio most days and I make a point to look in the window. I have been inside several times before to browse the handmade wares on sale. I seem to recall that once upon a time there were very squat, dull looking pots and cups adorning the window with their inherent dreariness, but in the last few years, the work has altered and the displays are dramatically more eye catching and original. On my suggestion, Ying bought my mother a realistic enough trout whisky decanter one Christmas. The cork fits snugly in his mouth and he hangs on a hook in her kitchen, to my delight. On a similar aquatic theme, I was swayed by constantly passing an array of these items in the window.
Not many people seem to know what a salt pig is these days, but this is clearly a novel example of one; it’s simply an open ceramic container for salt so that a spoon or fingers can be used to toss it into cooking. Alright, so with the serrated teeth and gaping maw, perhaps not the most practical kitchen object, but charming in his own way. I justified the purchase as (I couldn’t have resisted anyway, but) he was on sale at under half the price of his counterparts – he has a couple of small chips out of the bottom, but that doesn’t bother me. His friends also had more pointed snouts, giving them a much more menacing appearance. This one has a rather chubby face and (despite his hideously pink gums) remains rather appealing somehow. I plan to somehow fix him to the wall like a mounted trophy head, perhaps just across the hall from the bathroom so that after their ablutions, visitors will admire / be frightened of / be amused by him upon their exit.
As you can see, I posed him with a piratical finger puppet, as mug shots and with my hand so you have an idea of scale. I think he’s hilarious, and also commendably accurate as far as teeth go; the double layers are something I had to contend with myself when I was growing up – my baby teeth just wouldn’t drop out. Now the two of us can live together, he looking down on us all, as long as I can find a way of tacking him onto the wall. It’s what every home needs. To top it off, he was made by the same ceramist as the trout whisky decanter. I took his card for reference and was taken aback at the name. His first name is actually Garnet. I couldn’t believe it.
* Using a map, I’ve estimated the whole of Garnethill it at about one third of a mile (half a kilometer) square.
– Today Rosie is working and tying up loose ends before Ying’s imminent arrival today, and for our friends’ wedding tomorrow in Glasgow, Scotland –
You forgot to mention that within this half kilometre square is also home to the world famous the Glasgow School of Art.