A Room of One’s Own


I originally wrote a very loose post about the need for a writing space some time last year. It’s boring so I won’t back track for you.  Since then, I’ve managed to move house again (now relocated just over a year) and finally, I have a writing space again.

I’ve been making do with the couch, the other couch, the stairwell, the verandah and the occasional cafe in the meantime. But last week in a flurry of work the landlord decided to give us some home improvements in the form of a wall and two french doors, which was formerly a large and uninspiring garage door. The corner, in which the stereo lurked ungraciously with its leads leaking all over the place, has been emptied of all its contents and my writing desk has moved in.  My darling husband (whose support is quiet yet constant and real) bought me…

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