Mad ramblings of battling UFO’s and damp monster’s
Its been a while since I’ve been sat here at my writers ‘desk’
Its been almost four months since I wrote anything. Am I still a writer?
The truth be told I don’t know who or what I am!
I have stories in my head, But there fragmented, by time and life itself. Whilst they lay in pieces, they get shuffled somewhere in the back of my brain. They are building a huge pile of UFO’s (unfinished objects). UFO’s seem to be a recurrent theme, no matter what I try in life. So am I actually a collector of antiquarian UFO’s?
I ramble, and digress, that is the curse of imposter syndrome. It never ceases to amaze me how many different directions my brain is pulled in at the same time.
Is it that my environment is never set quite right for the procrastinator in me to ceases its ramble. I should invest in an office, a nice plush desk and swinging chair! If only money would allow!.
My desk is actually an old Carlton briefcase. I found in a charity shop, and parted with a Lady Godiva to call it my own. Its far from perfect as a writers desk. But at least it fits in my tent!
I like to write long hand, notebook and pen in hand. But there’s issues keeping things dry and mould free living this way. Every spring sees a clean out, the burning pile grows with each corner I touch. Its pointless trying to save any of it. Once the mould sights its target, there’s no halting its passage. It rampages its victim and ferociously progresses to the next. Does anything survive in my desk? Its been so long since I’ve thought about opening it — dare i look?
Its been a long winter, and about four months since my Carlton writing desk was last opened. I’ve been procrastinating about whether I should bother opening it at all. I’m afraid its filled with spiders, cobwebs, beetles and hoards of mould. The thought torments my mind at night. But there’s only one way to battle with nightmares. That’s to deal with them in the clear light of day. And today was the day I set in my diary.
So after some more procrastination I pulled it out of its corner. An avalanche of other offending UFO’s ensued to try to distract me. But I put my foot down.
It now sits in front of me, the outsides sparkling again after a quick wash down. It takes ten minutes to restore its balance upon the rumpled bedding that is my current office. Do I digress to a coffee? ….. No,…Open it!
Can I remember the combination
no…Yes….No… Ah, that’s it!
Its open once more. Eyes still closed, do I want to see the disasters that have grown in there. Trembling at the thought of another pile of work lost to the damp monster, I force my eyes open.
Low and behold. The Carlton desk works in a tent. Everything in there is bone dry, and I’m typing away. You cant stop me now!!
What will I create I wonder?
Where’s that list of UFO’s?