I’ve been away from my desk for a long time. It’s seven weeks that I've been physically away from it but longer if I count the emotional distance brought about by the difficulties of not knowing about our contract, GCSEs and political activities back in May/June time.
I couldn’t wait to get back to my desk. I can work anywhere but I love my mad space. In my imagination getting back here would be dreamy. I could get my head down and get my novel to the next stage.
But something's rotten in the state of my desk and office. The piles of papers, letters, print outs of reference material, magazine clippings that I keep because they may become useful have all been breeding while I’ve been away. It no longer feels a haven. I may be engulfed.
It’s essential therefore to clear up.
And my office deserves it. My family bought me the most amazing present for (Thai) mother’s day. Something I had been internalizing and rejecting for months as being too decadent. I never breathed a word so embarrassed was I that I wanted one. But Son thought of it.
Look.
My very own mini-fridge. My bottom may weld to the chair now I never need to move again.
