Meet my new office …
That’s right, I now have a sofa so I can lie down when it all gets a little too much. Not only that, I also have …
That’s one for every day and one to fill full of crap.
The faithful and comfy chair survived the arduous and perilous move from the room next door; but sadly, due to the new desk being slightly higher, it’s become incredibly uncomfortable.
Aha, you might say if you were that way inclined, why not simply raise the height of the chair? Well, because the height raising mechanism became permanently rusted shut during the great water fight of 1996.
It’s never been an issue before, since it was set at the perfect height, but now … new chair it is.
The new desk caused a few problems and almost didn’t happen. I saw it and was instantly struck by two things:
- It was perfect, giving me double the work space and simultaneously being all shiny.
- It was ludicrously cheap.
Mandy and I have recently come to the opinion that ludicrously cheap isn’t always good. Since we tend to buy the cheapest, only to have it disintegrate after a month, forcing us to buy a more expensive one anyway.
No, second cheapest, that’s the way to go.
But this was the cheapest desk, and it was the one I wanted. How could I stick to my new principles whilst getting the desk I want?
Fuck it, I want it.
When you’re a kid, adults tell you ‘I want doesn’t get’.
Except, wait … it doesn’t fit. The sofa, which we already had, flips out to be a spare bed, limiting the space available to 142 cm. The desk is 149 cm.
After searching in vain for an identical, but slightly smaller desk, I came up with a plan … I’d just build my own.
I’ll just build an exact replica to a marginally smaller scale.
Let’s see, that’ll take some welding and some glazing … a bit beyond my capabilities that.
I’ll build an exact replica to a marginally smaller scale … out of wood!
Except it won’t be shiny.
And my carpentry skills are slightly worse than my astronaut skills or my ability to breathe under water.
Okay … a new plan.
Buy the desk and alter the corner piece so it’s marginally smaller.
I’ll either get a glazier to cut 7 cm off the corner piece, or I’ll create a slightly smaller wooden replica.
Yes! I’m dead clever me.
Although after building and assembling the desk … I don’t want to cut bits off it, and my carpentry skills haven’t improved much by not actually practising.
As it turns out, when the bed is extended, it only just lies under the corner of the desk. The only way anyone in the bed would kick the desk would be if they balanced right on the edge and madly flailed their legs around.
In which case, it’s their own fucking fault.
And so there it is, in all its slightly too big, glass and steel shiny glory.
If I feel the need, I can transfer to the sofa to stare mindlessly at the board; or even take the keyboard with me and write whilst lying down.
Behind me …
Are my books and comics. Since most of the names in my scripts tend to come from staring at the spines of graphic novels, it’s a handy resource to have.
But for me, the thing which makes the upheaval all worthwhile, it a light-switch shaped like a nipple:
Now I’m truly happy.
Right, back to work.
Time to create that masterpiece. The one I’ve always wanted to write, but never had time. The one people will talk about for years to come. The one which will be hailed as the greatest …
Oh look, comics.