All that glisters...

...is not gold, it might be lustreware.

Our reading group meets monthly in one or other of the members' homes. I've always been captivated by the row of lustre jugs that adorns this mantelshelf. The technique, invented by 8th century Islamic potters in Baghdad and Basra, was complex and arcane, its mysteries not fully understood until recently when it was discovered that the glaze contains metallic nanoparticles which give the surface its shine. In the mid 19th century British lustreware became very popular because it reflected the light of lamps and fires in dull Victorian drawing rooms. It was one of those possessions that boasted your social standing among the neighbours: a dresser full of lustreware meant you weren't short of money to spend on luxuries, like having a massive TV now I suppose.

This house has been in my friend's family for three generations. It's a 'captain's house', so called because by the time a prosperous seafarer like her grandfather retired from a life on the ocean wave he had usually amassed enough capital to build himself a superior family home that looked a little bit posher than the rest. Not that posh though: the 'marble' panels on the fireplace here are actually painted slate - but who's to know?

It's funny because my friend, seeing me photographing the jugs, whipped away the box of matches from the one second from the end - she wanted it to look perfect and I laughed. But when I looked at the picture I was annoyed to find another member's face poking up in the mirror above the line of lustreware and I wondered about retouching it -- before I realised I was behaving in exactly the same way, seeking perfection in a world where nothing is perfect.