Desk in the N E corner of the dining/books room next to the French windows, conservatory with dog and cat and overlooking urban garden – relaxed and dappled, no hanging baskets.
On my desk – seven notebooks, scraps of paper (kitchen roll, envelopes, post-its) with scribbles, sometimes undecipherable, printed sheets of ‘how to blog’.
Books which change with use, ie Thesaurus, Concordia, Robert Frost, I Ching.
A ceramic mug with broken handle holding 11 pens, three pencils and 3 rulers – 1 wooden with Roman numerals, 1 see-through plastic (cobalt blue) and 1 metal (cerulean) all 12”/30cms.
Two hot drink coasters, designed and made by my grandsons – 3 active volcanoes with boy smiling and underwater with fish-hooks and whale.
Canon Printer, cardboard stage with cut out figures from a scene in my first novel. To remind me. Pen-pad, earphones for ‘Dragon Speaking Naturally’, speakers, digital camera.
Attached to walls and unused flat-screen are – post cards – BBC Writers’ Room, SOLLER in Spain, Haori with dyed rose design from the V&A, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, National Poetry Day October 2011 quote –
“I wish I could show you
When you are lonely or in darkness,
The Astonishing Light
Of your own Being!”
Photos – gymnastic Hares at the Wiltshire Sculpture Park, Sammy, 5, painting a rainbow in the conservatory, and post card, very old –
We are unaware
of what sweet
miracles may come
Two, half imperial size, oil pastel drawings of the characters in my first novel, a framed photo of a starry window reflected above the inner arch of a church.
But when I write I could be on the moon/in the grand canyon/dreaming.
S E corner upstairs, separated from party wall faces garden and a whole row of back gardens, all blossoming in the spring sunshine, no dogs barking, machines going, or barbeques.
Desk under window, difficult to see laptop screen because the desk faces the light so made a small blind. Loud music if I need ie Coldplay, Jan Garbarek, Tracy Chapman, Mozart. When the music stops – I don’t notice.
Easel, I paint here too, have plenty of books, paintings on the walls and an Ikea chair-bed for reading and for sleeping when the house is full.
I write anywhere, my first published collection of poetry was written and illustrated while lying on the settee, and when words are spilling over, I take a small, digital recorder about with me.
Words may sprout, they may not, mostly in the dining room close to cups of tea.