I’ve inherited a desk. One of those large multilayered steel, glass and dark wood confections with various shelves, presumably meant to be an office in its own right. It’s a corner lurking beast of a thing with a steel board to magnetically pin notes to. Shelves above and below the main surface, and a couple of parts I can’t use because I have no idea what they are for.

We had to assemble it from component parts which arrived in kit form with no instructions, which caused much scratching of heads during assembly, especially as the whole thing felt a little counter intuitive. As far as populating it is concerned, at present I’m going for the minimalist approach. Cordless handset phone on my right. My own books on one of the upper right hand glass shelves. PC speakers on the top centre with a battered old Lava lamp providing a contemplative focus. Laptop stage centre, lonely tea mug on my left in what seems an acre of space. Wallet on top left hand shelf next to some fly tying contraption with a magnifying glass I picked up from somewhere.

Underneath, dog is snoring at my feet in the capacious void below with the dangling wires and a power bar. Even down there are two shelves. I think one is meant for a small footprint printer, and the other for a desktop base unit. They don’t feel right as footrests.

Today I begin work on the second Cerberus novel with a quantum look at Death via a murder scene. Working title; ‘A falling of Angels’.