My writing desk

My writing desk I left behind at my parents when I went to Scotland...its clean now...and I must get Dad to remove his stuff from the drawers...and then...well...

Sitting in the TV room, where the desk is located, my eyes kept returning to it...how interesting it will be to move it into a room, and write by candle light. Sit in the quiet and just do what I want...write what I want without the constant nagging as if someone is looking over my shoulder...good cup of tea...

I can imagine it in a small croft, sitting near the fire, against the whitewashed stone walls. A window just to the side, letting in the pale light of winter. My hands covered with those gloves that have the fingers cut out, a steaming mug of tea or hot cocoa at the ready...okay...I know, I know...mmmmm...

Fifebeachwalker has a great photo of an old church...wonder if it is for sale...
www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=331850258&size=s