I need to take command of the situation, desk-wise. Is that tittering I hear? It’s what I usually hear whenever I tell anyone I’m going to “take command” of any situation.
But, really, how long am I meant to go on writing on a laptop perched on, well, my lap? I’ve been doing it for years. I used to have a big, proper, wooden desk, with drawers in it and everything.
Alas, when selling my last house, I shipped it out and transformed the study into a second bedroom for viewers.
Throwing out the desk
The desk and various other executive-style furniture went, you may recall, into my mate’s garage for a couple of weeks. And stayed there for five years.
Recently, faced with an ultimatum from his missus, I decided I couldn’t afford to have the desk shipped hundreds of miles to my current demesne and so, with great reluctance, agreed that they could throw it out.
First, though, I rescued crate-loads of books about journalism from that garage and, after packing them up and piling them carefully into the car, threw them out as soon as I got home.
Feeling unimportant
Actually, I’ve only thrown them out mentally. I piled them on the kitchen floor till I decided where they were to go and, three months later, they’re still there.
Once, I tripped over them and spilled my mince and tatties.
But, with a desk, I could feel organised. As things stand, to be quite frank with you, I don’t feel important at all.
A desk is symbolic of purpose and authority and, at the time of going to press, I lack both of these. What d’you mean, “We ken”?
Too much furniture
For a while, I shopped for smaller, plasticky desks, but I’m not sure what I’m doing with the house at the moment, and would have to move a chest of drawers or a futon out to make way for a desk, and there’s nowhere for them to go.
Maybe I could put them in the garden. Certainly, I could throw a tarpaulin over the chest of drawers to keep it dry.
But, then, every time I wanted to change my underwear or socks, or to find some cufflinks for my overalls, I’d have to stoat ootside and bring them back in a plastic bag.
Pandemic work
I expect many people, forced to work from home during the pandemic, have had to improvise some sort of desk situation.
People are now talking of “returning to their desks”. I must say I never fancied these “hot desks” they talk about, whereby you don’t get your own desk but just move around.
I’m not sure about desks you’re supposed to stand at either. Can’t be good for the varicose veins.
In the meantime, my laptop is on my knee, and I suppose I’m rather comfy on the sofa.
Taking command
I tried working with my “office” chair at various coffee tables and things but ended up putting my back out.
So a decision will have to be made soon. Someone has to take command of the situation, and I don’t see anyone else volunteering.
Perhaps I will pray for guidance. That way I can get my computer off my knees – and put it in the laptop of the gods.
