This is my boody garden. In the dialect of 19th century Northumberland, ‘boody’ referred to broken china. I discovered this at Tate Britain last year when we went to the exhibition of folk art. Now I have a name for my little garden where my favourite broken pottery and a whole heap of memories are saved.
There is a beautiful old plate, half a tea-pot, a piece of terracotta from a bread crock, half a mug that is the penultimate one left of my Mum’s retirement present when she left teaching deaf children in the unit at Roskear School, Camborne and handles from a beautiful piece of Jane Hamlyn pottery and I just love it, my ‘boody’ garden!
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