Doing some routine paperclog this morning set me to musing on work-space and the joys of having a study. For me, that is a whole treat in itself and more than qualifies as a Birthday Month pleasure. Way back in the distant years of small children everywhere and a life proscribed by meals, housework, washing, playgroup, cubs and living on the edge of the world – I used to dream about having a work-space or desk and the time to get on with being Me and doing something worthwhile such as writing a great novel. The way time has flown past I have never got round to the novel, great or not, but I have done a lot of writing. . . . . . . . sermons, reports, talks, blog posts, letters and journals. However, for more than thirty years I have been blessed with a desk to write at.
Of course nowadays much of my writing is at the adjoining computer table, probably like most people. I suppose my love of a desk is a throw back to my early years as an insurance clerk (clerkess in those days and at a lower salary than the males – Harrumph!) Unlike most people I get a kick out of completing a pile of paperwork and administration. I used to delight in seeing a filing box emptied and a whole pile of reminders and reviews accomplished in good order. Changing Addresses, tracing people who had forgotten to pass on their new details, working out life assurance quotes. . . . . . all good stuff. No wonder the years flew past.
This morning I sat at my desk – an old one that has travelled to many places – and started on some necessary phone calls and paperwork on behalf of Son #3. Oh the joy when it was all done. Two bulky files reduced to two slimmer files and a whole load of paper to recycling and rubbish. Most satisfying.
Now why is it so hard to weed out my own filing system?