Moroccan Pottery Charger

At least, I think it is Moroccan. My parents went to Casablanca in the early 1930s – presumably by sea, which would have been quite an adventure in those days. My sister Ann told me that they always giggled when she asked them about it, and she suspects that she was conceived sometime during that visit. It clearly carried sentimental value, as it was one of the pieces that my father kept after mother died and he downsized to move near us in Bath. Why did I never ask him about it?

The charger itself is decorated with interlacing circles in soft, subdued colours under a matt glaze. In the tradition of Islamic art, it is imperfect – one of the rings having a section in the ‘wrong colour’ – because only Allah can be perfect. At least, that is what I was told.

It is a very special piece. I feel fiercely protective of it. We keep it on top of the oak chest, usually holding oranges and lemons.