I Can't Believe It's Not Bhudda

This cheery chap was my constant companion during the winter months of writing here in Spain. At home in France I have a huge ceramic one that I picked up at a flea market in Beijing. I have developed the superstitious habit of rubbing my Bhudda's head and belly before starting work each morning. So, obviously I had to get one for Spain. This one was acquired last summer from a hawker wandering among the tables at a chiringuito. The cracked belly makes him special, I think. I know, I know, it's me that's cracked!