Scandal, Sparkle &Ceramic Shenanigans: The Debut of Kiln and Kettle

Dearest Readers,

It is with a heart full of flame and walls still warm from festivity that I announce: Kiln and Kettle has opened its doors —and, my word, what a debut it was.

The morning of Saturday, the 14th of June shall forever be etched into the annals of

this humble kiln's memory (and quite possibly, into the back of a heart-shaped

trinket box soon to hold a ring). Yes, you read that correctly. A dashing gentleman

arrived early, steady of hand and fluttery of heart, to paint a ceramic vessel shaped most romantically —for the purposes of a proposal, no less. One suspects the answer will be yes, though I do hope she appreciates his choice of purple and lilac hues.

At the very same table, a lady of such composure and taste arrived with intent.

Her eyes scanned the shelves and, with no hesitation whatsoever, she reached for... the lemon bowl. Not a floral frill nor pastel pot for her - no, she sought citrus. She painted with ferocity. Purpose. A lemon, after all, is a fruit of secrets and sour truths. And she seemed to be burying many.

Elsewhere in the studio, guests of all ages took to their brushes like swans to a lake.

Meanwhile, two merry beer mugs were being daintily dabbed in blues and golds

by a duo who laughed a little too loudly for a first date. New lovers or old flames

reignited? Charlotte does not presume - but her glaze rarely lies.

And then - her. Our icon on the red scooter. The woman we all wish we were

when we grow up. Silk scarf in her hair, boots that had seen Parisian cobbles and

possibly scandal in Florence, she waltzed in and ordered a dog bowl - for Lady

Piglet naturally (her Beagle though I wouldn't be surprised if she once held a title in a small European court). Her paint strokes were swift, chic, and - dare I say - laced with a certain continental mischief.

But allow me to paint the full picture.

After a period of dry anticipation - both literal and bureaucratic - our long- awaited alcohol license was granted. This called for a small celebration. Or, in truth, several bubbly ones. The champagne was taste-tested, and retested (for quality

control, of course), and let's just say a certain studio corner may still smell faintly of celebration and citrus.

In an act of theatrical perfection, our storefront sign was hoisted high above the glass doors just in time to greet our first guests. Elegant, polished, and impossible to miss, it now beckons to passersby like a calling card from a very posh tea party.

Speaking of tea. our shelves now boast new stock of enchanted pedigree: a certain teapot and sugar bowl duo who bear a striking resemblance to those from a tale as old as time. Their arrival caused quite the stir - one small guest even attempted conversation with the sugar pot. And oh, the cakes. Honey almond, apple crumble, mini banana breads drizzled with caramel, and even humble bran muffins, each as golden and sweet as the chatter

around our tables.

One guest was heard saying the banana bread was "life-changing," though it may have been the prosecco speaking. Most thrillingly of all, the bookings have begun. Our little ledger now carries the names of future painters, dreamers, and potential proposers. It seems Kiln and Kettle is not merely a place to paint —it is swiftly becoming a setting for love, laughter, and just the right amount of scandal.

Until the next brushstroke reveals its tale, with warmth (1050°C, to be precise) and

watchful wonder,

🫖 Lady Charlotte ,the Kiln

Observer of Fire, Frosting & Fateful Moments

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