The title of my blog is no cutesy attempt to lure in readers with the promise of coffee and freshly baked scones (although both are often available). No, From The Kitchen Table is so called because that is exactly where I write from – my kitchen table. I yearn and ache for a room of my own in which I could write without distraction or disturbance.
My ideal writing space would be a cabin at the end of my garden, just under the Hawthorn tree. This cabin is fully heated and insulated making it cosy in winter. It also has a little veranda running around outside for summer days. Inside my cabin is a rocking chair for thinking, a stove for brewing coffee and a desk by the window from where I could write.
I see lots of plants and a bed in the corner for visiting cats. The walls are decked in colourful batiks and hangings and paintings that speak to my soul. There is a wicker basket which holds some beautiful blue, turquoise and green throws from Avoca Handweavers for extra winter warmth. Just inside the door, on the floor are my special furry writing slipper boots. There are shelves holding my reference books, dictionaries and books of poetry. On my desk sits my laptop, notebooks, scribble pads and a large candle.
Can you see it? I am there right now. As I hold this vision and will and dream it into being I am reminded of a poem I learned at school,
The Old Woman Of The Road by Padraic Colum.
O, to have a little house!