Stained Glass

by Sue Johnson

 

Alice planned to give the stained glass panel to her mother for her 80th birthday in March. At the moment, it was a pile of fragments of coloured glass – gold, apricot, lavender and raspberry. The other group members who had done the course before were miles ahead of Alice.

The teacher taught Alice how to break the glass in straight lines, placing the unwanted pieces in the scrap box for future projects. Alice was nervous of glass – of making a mistake and being cut.

“Be bold,” the teacher encouraged. “It won’t hurt you.”

Alice wasn’t so sure. She looked doubtfully at the triangles and rectangles she’d created, topped by a nobbly gold circle.

“It will be fine when you’ve finished grinding,” said the teacher, as she showed Alice how to use the scary-looking machine that oozed water and had a slowly revolving wheel that looked capable of crushing a finger.

Alice looked at the teacher’s example of the finished copper-foiled panel in toning shades of indigo and sea green with a feeling of despair. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. Maybe she should aim for Christmas instead of March?

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