In the old house in the North, I had a desk in the attic, a quiet space all for me, away from the rest of the house. The desk was an ikea flat pack, which required a lengthy and fiddly assembly, which I did, downstairs. It took twice as long and help from a friend to inch it up the short stairs to the attic. The narrow, twisted stairs proving to be a barrier, not previously considered. So when we moved the desk stayed there. Part of the fixtures and fittings of the house. Along with a flat pack double bed, that arrived in over 60 pieces. I am over flat pack.
The rented house was short of useable space and we spent most of the time squeezed into a tiny living room. My ‘essential’ bits of paper distributed around the house and inordinate amounts of time spent looking for ‘that bit of paper’, which was ‘just there’, the day before yesterday.
Here we have more space, the kitchen table, sits in a light and airy space. The thing is, I find that if I leave things on the kitchen table, a couple of days later they are not there. Hurriedly, tidied away for a meal, by me or someone else. Whereabouts now unknown.
The back room is almost finished, it has been painted, shelves made and loaded with books and a new-ish desk/table (Ebay) added. This room still houses the odd un-packed boxes. Eventually, there will be a sofa-bed. It still needs lampshades and a little sorting before a full tour. In the meantime, here is my new desk, a space of my own.
A surface I can put things down on and know they will still be there tomorrow, currently it houses; Christmas cards waiting to be written, notebooks of Christmas shopping still to be bought. The big book of lists, with much to be ticked off. Some receipts I need to hang on to. School photos waiting to be sent to relatives. It needs some more personal touches, those bits are still in boxes.
Most of the black bic, biros are in one place. I have a ‘thing’ about black bic biros. They are my stationary of choice, a notebook and a black bic biro. ‘Apps’ for organising, don’t work for me. The book of list extends to a box ‘essential’ bits of paper, bits of paper to be sorted. “Hello, it’s Gemma and I am a woman who hoards random bits of paper”. Letters, leaflets, bits torn from the newspaper. ‘Things’ for further ‘doing’.
I know exactly where the stapler is, and my address book. As someone who forgets where things are, or what needs to be done without a list, who is constantly thinking about the next thing and the yesterday thing. I need a ‘one place’ to leave it all and to find my reminders.
Happiness for me, is being organised, slightly sad, but true. The desk represents a space to keep everything together, to sit and stare at a green wall and think. To the left, there is a view of the outside world and a tree occasionally inhabited by birds. Everyone needs a middle distance to stare into, that is my middle distance.
This is my space, tell me about yours?