My write room
Ahem. HerMelness invited me to expose my writing space about two weeks ago but I procrastinated and uh, forgot. This is late even by Caribbean standards. I promise it’s not because I was tidying anything up. Well, actually, that much should be obvious!
The desk belonged to Laurence’s grandfather. It’s got a gorgeous leather top, blessedly mug-stained (I can’t tell you how much this puts me at ease). It looks out on our back garden.
Featuring quite strongly in this picture is my application for my foreign national ID card which I recently lost and keep telling myself I must replace before Britain gives me the boot. My mind’s still blown by the fact that I’m giving birth to the citizen of a country I don’t belong to.
There seems to be a running theme of procrastination because that empty frame was bought over six months ago and is supposed to hold a picture of my husband.
Oh, and those journalism books are slowly making their way to Amazon…when I remember to sort that out. What you can’t see is the book I’ve been fingering most often, What to expect the first year. But, of course.