Imagining writing spaces – both bad and good

He is on the Tube, somewhere in the middle of the Northern Line. It’s around 8.45 am and it’s heaving. He sits on the bench seats, not able to move his elbows without tutting from those either side of him, a plasterer with a massive nylon holdall at his feet and a prim lady who looks disapprovingly at just about everyone. He has his notebook out, held awkwardly so as not to reveal its’ contents. He can’t write anything.
Everyone has gone out. He’s made a cup of liquorice tea and sits at the computer. He selects something mellow to listen to from his impressive music library. The sun shines into the room and he feels good. He can write now.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s