Wednesday 7 May 2014

writing desk tales

When he was 16, Steve moved to England. He'd had enough of school, and being torn between fighting parents who had split up years before, and wanted to spend time with his grandparents and get to know his English family (both his parents are English, and his sisters were born in England, but Steve was born in Australia)

He did the usual ladding about at the pub with mates, working during the day driving trucks. One of his early jobs was delivery desks around London, modern simple laminate desks that all looked the same. He turned up with a delivery one day, and the lady asked him to take away this desk. She was replacing it with something smaller since her husband passed away, and would he find it a good home? She and her husband had been given the desk as a wedding present, but she wasn't sentimental about it at all.

But Steve was. He took the desk home, and when he and his partner moved back to Australia in early 1990, he brought it with him. Since then, the desk has lived in houses in Western Australia, South Australia and now Queensland. It has sat neglected in our entry way since the day we moved into this house, gathering dust (and random socks that didn't fit anyone any more)

And when we started talking about me moving my craft space into the front room of the house, I told him I wanted the desk in there, too. My original idea was to have my project life album set up on it, but I've changed my process this year, so I've set up the laptop to use here.

Every morning, I come in here, open the curtains up, and turn on the laptop. I pass Sophie toys, take power leads off her, and spend ten minutes deciding if I'll really write anything today, then I start.

Where do you write?


  1. I love the story behind this, thanks for sharing! x

  2. I like the vintage look for your lovely and much travelled desk. I am sure its original owner would be tickled pink!

  3. Great story and a beautiful desk x


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