Writing shed Sarah L. Dixon

Writing shed

For my 40th I wanted to travel until you told me ‘It depends where it is!’

We had been to Relate. You wouldn’ttalk outside that room. So, I decided I would make myself a getaway in our garden. You complained about how much space it would take up.

I ditched my idea of leaded doors propped open by shoes, bird song and a breeze on summer days. A heater andfairy-lights in winter. A plush craft corner of silks, fabric, Patches covered in practice stitches improving each time.

This would have been a place of focus. A place where I could bring myself back from work, childcare, funding bids. You doubted how much I would use it. Flinched at the price.

Instead, two weeks before my 40th I told you I had had enough. Now I have a house of my own. Well, with the negotiation of space taken from my ten-year old son.

Oh and I built a book fort. A temporary place where the books hem me happily in. Moon lamp and fairy-light lit. The walls talk to me in fonts and colours about what I could read, write, imagine.