My search for a dissertation desk hit a huge hurdle and an all time low yesterday. On Monday after dropping off Master Charles at sunny Stockport station, I popped along to Levenshulme Town Hall Antiques Centre. A relic of red brick Victorian magnificence, the entrance hall is lined with shiny moss green Minton tiles and gives way on either side to two offices. One labelled Clerk and the other Surveyor. In the Surveyor’s office sat a raven haired, bespectacled beauty – once. She looked as if she would rather read my palm than sell me sticks and peered at me over her clunky frames. As I hovered over a petite painted bureau she exclaimed that it had only been brought in that morning and had belonged to her neighbour, an artist, just popped her clogs.
Why, oh why didn’t I just bite her hand off? It was £150 and perfect for independent study writing. Lovely provenance, pervaded with artistic vibes, just decorative enough with its mandarin chasing a geisha across the sloping front, and would fit a space.
‘I’ll think about it. Thank you’.
I thought about it for the next three days. Of course when I went back it had gone.
‘Another lady bought it, an hour after you’d been in.’
Drat and double drat.
The papers and books are sliding off the makeshift table I am using. Piles of pads and pictures seem to be growing out of the floor like funghi. Chaos reigns and Eli twitches at the mess.
40 million words written on WordPress so far today. 254 of them are mine.
Dissertation desk. The search continues.