A couple of years ago, when I lived in Morocco, I wrote this post about my desk.

So I thought I’d do that again for comparative purposes, and also for purposes of having content, and also because I had a slight everybody-hates-me freakout today and what is more calming than taking pictures of furniture and then detailing bit by bit what is on them. Nothing, that’s what.

So I’ll start at the top. Firstly, there are my 4 posters, one for each OperaSoc opera I’ve been involved in – two directed, two produced. All great. They are signed by the cast and some of the messages are hilarious and make me smile (when I’m actually meant to be working but hey-ho).

Next is the top of my desk, occupied by laptop, thesis, library books relating to Arabic poetry, cake, tea, stationary, a masquerade ball mask, a thank-you card from the ex-president of LUU Backstage, two boxes of crazy tiny Japanese food, and a paper-maché pumpkin. All fairly standard, I’m sure.

Underneath and to the right I have bags and drawers packed to the brim with all of the nail polish in the world, and also various craft supplies. I have my workbox which contains even more craft supplies (because let it never be said that I am a woman without pipe-cleaners). On the left are various folders and books related to my undergrad which I’m nostalgically keeping for NO REASON AT ALL, my scrapbook which I’m nostalgically keeping for all of the reasons, and my record of achievement which mostly contains certificates explaining that I was a Girl Guide once.

On the floor are my underused hot water bottle (because who needs a hot water bottle when they have an electric blanket), a pair of violently luminous running shoes which I haven’t taken out of the box, some oil paints, and in the very bottom left-hand corner is the box full of all the tiny memories which don’t work in scrapbook form. Things like a foam die I won once in French class when I was 9, a very smooth rock I found on a beach in Morocco, and the burnt-out matches from the time I played the “Little Match-Girl” at school.

There you are. Now you know even more about me. You’re welcome.