Often we would meet there for the day. He would leap from Toft to Meissen telling stories of Bacchus or discussing the quality of a rim. Then we'd walk through the metal gallery: "Look, locks! Excellent!", a short cut through musical instruments, "Terrific, have you read The Wheelwright's Shop?" Hours would disappear in galleries as we took up our separate posts drawing, later discussing our sketches over a pig's knee at Daquise.

On the handling days Dad seemed to breathe life into all those newly freed pots. He loved working with the V&A staff, combining their knowledge with that of the makers. He had great faith that the students wouldn't drop anything and that they would be able to come up with the goods. He would spend months organising, co-ordinating, pushing students, designing posters and catalogues, and then eventually setting the actual exhibition up. During the private views people would ask him if he had made any thing for the exhibition, somehow not realising that he had made the whole thing.

Since he died so many people have told me how the V&A projects have had a dynamic effect on their work. Dad loved to engage people in looking at objects in a variety of ways, and to develop the senses in such a way as to give pleasure for a lifetime.

For other memories of Mike go to Kevin de Choisy's page