I long for a little space of my own in our rather cramped house. I have a desk with shelves above it and all my bits and bobs are either underneath my desk or gathered around it in various little storage baskets. It’s not ideal.
In my imaginary little space for me I would have a door that closes and which I can lock .I would have a little fire I could light in winter and one big cosy arm chair. I rather like this one from Furniture Road.
I would have a hand crocheted throw and a full magazine rack.In a little drawer by my side you might even find a large stash of chocolates, old love letters and precious photos that I could just sit and enjoy when the mood takes me.
There would have to be a coffee machine.
I would have a window that overlooked the garden and I would always have a vase filled with fresh flowers. I would have a really old-fashioned typewriter which no little sticky hands would ever go near.
Why do I want such a space?
Well I love to write and writing in a corner of a kitchen is fine when it is a little blog post but not when it is a novel that I want to pour my heart and soul into. To have a room to write would be just wonderful.
I could also call my friends in peace without constantly being disturbed. I could do whatever I pleased without someone pouncing on me with a wish or a want or a must do because hey for a minute there I looked like I might be relaxing.
One day soon I will create that space.