This is where the magic happens

I’m not much of a travelling writer; mostly, I just prefer being at my desk, with my computer, and a beverage resting on the coaster to my right. But we’re travelling soon, and I’ll have to adjust somehow. Still, it’s hard to let go of certain creature comforts. Especially when you love your desk.

The Angry Chef and I spotted our desk in a window in Carouge two winters ago. We loved, and took note of the store name and number to call later and ask for more information.

About six months go by. We looked around (we really needed a new desk for the office, as the Ikea one we had was quite literally on its last legs), found another one which could really work, but ended up deciding against it. We kept going back to Carouge to take a look at “the” desk in the window.

One day, almost a full year after we first saw it, The Angry Chef simply decided enough was enough – he would buy “the” desk for us. And we never looked back.

The gentleman who sold it to us gets several pieces of furniture from Asia, many of them antiques (like our desk), and renovates them in Switzerland to sell at his store near Plainpalais. He said he had gotten our desk in Indonesia, and that it was possibly from the 1930s. One of the great things about it is that it’s almost two metres long, so The Angry Chef and I can each have our own work space, plus two drawers. It’s done in dark wood with a matte finish, and has a few marks on the surface at my end. It looks like it took a bit of a beating over the years. I think it’s by far the best piece of furniture in the house.

The white couch in the living room is a close second.

I’m quite messy by nature, so trying to keep my end of the desk tidy is a good exercise. It’s very distracting to write on a messy desk.

I should probably seize this opportunity to get going with my 15,000 word goal. I’ll keep you posted on how that’s going.

Thank you for reading, and have a lovely evening.


One comment on “This is where the magic happens

  1. Ed Mercer says:

    I simply adore the history and stories of good pieces of furniture. They are the most neglected members of a well-structured household, story-wise. But they have their own, and they are usually good ones.

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