I remember all the desks I’ve sat at over the years in the same misty-eyed way that some people remember old boyfriends. Maybe it’s a “writer thing”. There was the battered school desk covered in graffiti that I ended up with in my second year of UNI (Oh God, I loved that desk) – my 3am spaghetti hoops dining table and the spot where I wrote seriously awful “Fic” in-between essays on New Screen Technologies (Touch Screen, it’s gonna be huge!). Then there was the little writing desk I inherited off my Mum and Dad for our “Room of Requirement” in our London Flat (our laundry/guest room/study/messy room) – I wrote two books and organised a wedding at that desk… and managed to burn the wall with a candle. Oops.
I guess my point is that desks are one of those memorable pieces of furniture where a lot of important things happen. Our new desk was inherited from Sunny’s Nan who passed away a couple of years ago. It’s an old bench-style dining table made of pine that Sunny’s Dad used as a desk when he was at UNI and then became a dining table again in Sunny’s Nan’s kitchen. Now it’s ours, and has had a mini makeover and returned to its first job as a desk 🙂