If you’ve followed any of this blog you will realise that I am fascinated with my writing space.
Not that I’m obsessive or pernickety (hum, don’t think I’ve ever written that word before). It’s just that I always hanker after a garret in Paris, although having gone their a week ago and been frozen to my bones it would have to be a Parisian garret where I now live, on the French Riviera.
A garret like Gene Kelly had in ‘An American in Paris,’ with a bed he could suspend from the ceiling, table, chairs and even a jug of flowers hidden away in a cupboard, all to give him enough space to fulfil his passion of painting.
An American in Paris (1951) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I have less need of space, just my trusty old laptop and the resources of the world upon the internet.
Now, at last, I have arrived at almost my perfect space (I won’t call it perfect, nothing is while I can still dream.)
Courtesy of two very simple technologies, an extension lead for my laptop and a blind to shade the screen from the sun I can now sit on my terrace overlooking the roofs of Menton and theMediterranean Sea and pound away to my heart’s content.
Incroyable as my French friends would say.
