My perfect study

G B Shaw's Study
These days we all seem to have a study. I mean the kind of study where Miss Scarlett did it with the candlestick - that kind of study. Mine is the antithesis of my ideal; it is messy, unwelcoming and full of junk, including most of my workshop. The latter is a necessity, since anything left in a shed would have rusted away and the cable eaten by rats. As I sit writing this, in front of me, on the desk is:

A calculator
A pile of empty cds
A pile of music cds
A ball of string
A box set of Fred Astaire movies
A coffee cup
An OS map of Skegness
A packet of Postcards
A Magnusson metal tape measure
Bits of assorted paper

Dont even ask about everything else in the room. It's a nightmare.
This is not the kind of study I was led to believe in by the Enid Blyton Famous Five stories: A yew Windsor chair, a Georgian Partners desk, shelves of books - mostly leather bound, a smell of oldness and a pipe rack and half an ounce of Planter's Pride in a weird-smelling pouch that resembled a codpiece. Perhaps, a candlestick telephone with Sloane 234 written on the base. A Remington typewriter. Perhaps a Gestetner duplicator that would cause death by inhalation had it worked. On the wall would be a map of the world, with a lot of pink bits. An aspidistra would sit disconsolately in a jardiniere.

No. This place in which I sit is not a study at all, it is a collection of accusations.


wolfy said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
wolfy said...

oh dear, let's try that again, shall we?

an enormous black architect's lamp, several toys: a zebra, a knight upon his horse, a long horn bull, a small leopard, spider monkeys, a pterodactyl, a fine little horse, a beach stone from my favorite beach in CT, a jelly jar full of pens, lemongrass/mandarin hand lotion, yellow scissors, a pile of index cards, blue suede gloves, post-it notes with reminders, The Harry's Bar Cookbook, a Victoria Secret sale catalog, my new 2011 desk calendar, an envelope of pansy seeds from Burpee seed company, a small box of mints with the words Catalina Island and a woman wearing a red bathing cap riding a sailfish (i'm certain the mints led her to believe she could ride a sailfish!) . . . and lastly, my Mac, without which none of this would be possible.

Wrinkled Weasel said...

Wolfy, has it occured to you that if Elvis had sung about Blue Suede Gloves, the world would be full of Pat Boone impersonators?

On the whole, a very good desk top.

wolfy said...

naw, Elvis could have sung about canned haggis and his icon status would never have suffered . . .

Jim Baxter said...

Mine is a brown study, all is decay. The steel rolodex that inspired the design of the Mount Palomar Observatory now records only straightened-out paper clips, mummified boiled sweets now and for evermore at one with their wrappers, shrivelled elstic bands, long reverted to bitumen.

A magnifying glass that once magnified to fifty diameters, now sprung from its frame, now serves a rusty ball-bearing and a wall-eyed hairy marble. Biro shards, the discarded wings of the unwritten..

That's enough for now. Kindly leave your name in the waste paper basket.