WHO AM I?

I ask because I remember arriving to live in Caithness by virtue of my successful application to manage the Dounreay glassblowing Department. That was in 1981 and I was greeted as a kind of saviour, like the calvary bounding over the hills to save those poor scientists who had been unable to have any of their scientific glass repair or new pieces made. At long last after many months without a skilled glass master a new begging had well begun! I am a scientific glassblower which is quite a statement since not many people knew what one is.

Being from a land a long, long way from Caithness, (England!), I was not connected to anything or anyone in the County so had no family ties. I was going to say I had no friends but all that changed as soon as I explained to people why I was here. Yep, for sure I could fix their glass problems and yep of course I could make that tricky looking item of glassware. No one else could. Not even the applicant for my job from Caithness Glass. I think it was political that one had to interview a local so as not to appear to be bias! I remained a scientific glassblower and certainly not, no matter what people thought, a Caithness glassblower. Sure, I blew glass and lived in Caithness, but I never have nor will make glass. I make glassware and there is a subtle difference. I am Ian and I am a scientific glassblower.

We judge people by what they do so I accepted that people referred to me as a glassblower. They didn’t know anything else about me and when you want a guy to fix your glass still so that your water really is pure then who cares who does it as long as the job gets done. Enter little old me. Well, I didn’t think I was old at twenty-eight years ago. That was a long time ago. Over forty years ago and people still know me as Ian the glassblower. Great. I can take that.

I am not the son of Alan Pearson, even though my dad was called Alan. Nor am I the brother of Simon even though my brother is called Simon. I am Ian Pearson, nothing more, nothing less. When, with my late wife Maureen I set up our business called Glass Creations we were quite deliberate in promoting the fact that it was my wife who run the business and I was “just” the glassblower. Maureen hated to be called or referred to as the wife of the glassblower.

A couple of years ago I was asked to give a talk about my glass art and as a bonus got a free meal. During lunch, the lady sitting next to me who was unknown to me a local dignity asked me where I came from. I told her I lived in Thurso. But you are not from Thurso, are you? she countered. Yes, was my reply which obviously upset her as she told me that I didn’t sound like a person from Thurso. Well, I said you don’t sound like a person from Mars, but you obviously are by your bad manners. Apologies to any Martians reading this but I jest. A distant family member told me that you must remember where you have come from otherwise you will not know where you are going. I thought this unkind to those that suffer from amnesia but that’s just me. Yep, I know who I am but sometimes it seems no one else does!