There is a wonderful book called Where women create. It is a glossy, coffee table book about the studios of creative women. It is absolutely fantastic with a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit but it is nothing at all like my life. I believe that there are women who have workrooms like this:
But this is more like this:
But my workroom is so shockingly awful that I daren’t even show you a photo of it. I friends who would probably never speak to me again if they knew just what chaos it is. I have an entire room at the top of the house and I end up working on about 2.5 square feet. And I can’t even claim that I know where everything is. I don’t. I’ve got to the point of thinking I’ll have to buy a new heatgun because I have given up hope of ever finding mine again. And, as I get older I can’t concentrate if there is a lot of mess. So, crisis point has been reached.
Anyway, the long-suffering historian went down to IKEA with me this morning and we bought a flatpack bookcase which he put together and we hoiked up all the flights of stairs to my loft conversion workroom and, finally, it spurred me on. One sack of recylcling and one bag that even I couldn’t salvage later, there are now patches of carpet visible.
The sun was beating down, the air was fresh, etc but I was inside somewhere between exhilarated and despairing that I had let it get into this state. But I found sooo much stuff it was well worth doing. All the clearing up gurus tell you to do 20 mins regularly rather than stick at it for hours and get fed up. So, I intend to do 20 mins a day until you can actually see the floor from any corner of the room, and I find that hot air gun.