The Writing Room


I always wanted a writing corner. A desk and chair. Something that would be impressive…this is where the magic happens

I never have been able to write there. I have one. I do. It’s just behind the door. In the corner. 

But I can’t write there. And I can’t read there. 

I sometimes write by the window in our big comfy chair…

But then the noises from upstairs begin…Stomp. Thud. stomp. bang Shrieking. Door slams. 

And this repeats for about six and a half hours. 

Over this noise there will sometimes be the sound of a telephone call…discussing the important meaning behind a kiss. Or just the rumbling of a vacuum and an occasional reprimand.

I’m sure at some point in my future I too will have the joy of children. 

Most couples do. 

But I try and try to find a place where I can write or read. I hide inside my earphones. But the noise floods in. 

I think back to another time. A different neighbour. Where the only noises were the sounds from the bedroom and then fighting afterwords…I was pretty convinced nothing could ever top that. Until there was the dog during its crate training. But that got better after one long Month. 

Finally I have a headache. 

I tried a nap. But I’m a light sleeper.

I go to the bathroom. Close the door. Considering the park. I run a bath. I’ll just take a bath. 


What’s that?

The sound of silence. 

I walk back into the bedroom…

Slam. Bang. “Put that down!!” Stomp stomp thud. 

Back into the bathroom. 


I get my paper. 

I run my bath. 

I sink into the water…

And open my book. 

I had an idea about a writer’s desk or a corner at a window. 

But I’ll just keep a notebook in the towel cabinet instead. 

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