The plan for the next months is deliberately small. We are adding a second kiln so that one failed firing does not empty the shelves.
The catalogue will get shorter, not longer. Every product we keep has to earn its shelf space, and the ones that do not sell will move to a seasonal page.
Last on the list is the returns page. It is the least exciting page in the shop and the one customers read most carefully when something goes wrong.
Ceramics and cold weather are not enemies on their own. The problem is condensation: a box that leaves a warm workshop and sits in a cold van collects water on the inside.
We now let packed orders rest in the unheated part of the workshop for an hour before pickup, and we add a small moisture card to every box.
Since the change we have had no claims for glaze crazing, which used to appear in the first cold snap of the year.
We buy clay from a family workshop two hours away. They are not the cheapest supplier, but they answer questions about firing temperatures without guessing.
For packaging we look for three things: a consistent box size, recycled board that still holds its shape, and a delivery date we can plan around.
A supplier who cannot tell us where a batch came from is a supplier we do not use twice. That rule has saved us from more than one bad kiln load.
Most of a potter’s week is waiting. Glaze needs time to dry evenly, and a piece that looks ready can still crack in the kiln if the air is damp.
We spent this week reorganising the drying racks so that air can move behind every shelf. It is not photogenic work, but the rejection rate at the kiln has already improved.
The shop stayed busy in the background. Two orders a day is not much, yet it is enough to keep the stock counts honest.
A mug survives a surprising amount of shaking if it cannot move inside its box. The first version of our packaging let each mug rattle by a centimetre, and the breakage rate showed it.
Handles are the weak point. Wrapping the body in paper is not enough; a strip of card folded around the handle absorbs the knocks that matter.
Finally, the box is doing most of the work. We stopped buying the cheapest one and started testing by dropping a filled box from waist height onto concrete. The breakage rate fell to almost nothing.
Northwind Goods started as a market stall with two crates of mugs and a hand-written price list. Customers kept asking whether they could order between market days, so we built a small shop.
We wanted the same shop to stay simple: a short catalogue, honest stock counts and a checkout that works on a phone. Nothing in the store should need a manual to use.
This journal is where we write down what we learn while the shop runs: what breaks, what we fixed and what we would do differently next season.