Terramundi make rather elegant hand-thrown money pots, with a splendid business model: the pots contain no money-retrieval hole, thus allowing for a one-way deposit-only transaction (they're write-only, if you will). In order to retrieve the savings therein, the pot must be smashed - necessitating the need to buy another pot with (hopefully only some of) the saved money. The website describes this process of fill-smash-replace as "customary". The geek in me sees it as a kind of recursion.
Anyhoo, they're quite lovely, and I recently ordered one for my godson in order to save towards his Misspent Youth Fund, and perhaps provide some kind of fiscal lesson about long-term planning and the psychology of anticipation. Or a nice shelf ornament. At the very least he'll be able to enjoy bludgeoning it to smithereens, perhaps even intentionally.
Here's how it arrived.
Pre-enjoyed, one might say, no? Except without the fortune in small change.
I suppose I had a feeling this might be the case when I picked up the box and it rattled in that mocking tinkly-chinkly broken pottery sort of way (you know; the noise that packages make as soon as you've signed to say that they've arrived safely).
Happily, a quick telephone call to the lovely people at Terramundi London, and a replacement is being arranged free of charge. One supposes that this is not the first time the Royal Mail has meddled with the saving process.
I will confess: there is a tiny part of me that kind of hopes it happens again.