About offices, and not having them.

Transient

I once had an office that actually had four walls and a door. Moving into it, I was practically hyperventilating I was so excited. I painted one of the walls a stunning dark grey-blue, hung my favourite black and white photographs on the wall and occasionally sat on the matching navy sofa, like a real, proper writer, to edit things.

The downside of having this office was the fact that it left three children to share one bedroom. Granted, it was a massive bedroom, and the three children were quite tiny, but, the simple fact was, it didn’t work.  The children fought. And kept fighting. And by the time we’d had two and a half months of misery and aggravation, the feeling at the pit of my stomach was becoming very clear: No More Office With A Door. Not If You Want All The Children To Survive.

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