Thursday, September 05, 2013


My Desk Is Not A Desk

My desk isn’t a desk. Technically, it’s a heavy slab of wood propped on a stand at one end and screwed into the shelves covering one wall at the other. But, functionally, for about fifteen years it’s been functionally identical to a desk, so I forget the technical differences.

Until I sat down this morning, switched on my computer, and the screw on my side snapped, causing the slab of wood to pivot on its diagonal axis towards me. Now, we have a small flat and a lot of stuff, so there are (were) piles of books and papers everywhere on my desk that my keyboard, screen and mouse pads aren’t. Most excitingly, the whole alcove in the shelving into which my desk was bolted was neatly packed with reference books to get the maximum use out of the space – a space about 80cm by 55cm by 30cm. You can make your own estimates of just how many books that enabled me to pack into the space (it’s difficult to count them now they’re randomly slung across almost the entire floor). It’s a very practical arrangement.

Well, it was, until the entire weight of all of them came down in an instant on my left thigh, while all the more randomly spaced contents of my desk (which I was suddenly reminded wasn’t a desk) slithered towards me. Fortunately for me, if not for Richard, my beloved was just about to leave for work. Until then. So when my very manly shriek reached him and as I tried to hold the entire weight with both hands and one thigh, he came to help. It took him very slightly less than twenty minutes to exhume me.

My left leg and both wrists are really quite painful. But from your point of view, dear reader, as I type a placeholder on a borrowed computer, this is to say that – as I have nowhere to put my computer right now, with a large slab of wood stood upright against one wall – I may not be posting (or emailing, or other such activities) quite as much as planned.

Blogging will be light, though my desk isn’t. Because my desk is not a desk.

Oh sweetheart!


and yet even in the midst of tragedy you manage to remain so witty. I loved the url of the bitly link. And "manly shriek". My dad is very good at building over-engineered extra strong furniture from years of doing so for three very active children who liked climbing and bouncing on things (and in my case still do). Any thing attached to a wall, for example, is tested by swinging his entire 20 stone weight on it. And I mean swinging. You want I should ask him to come and assist with a rebuild?
Thank you. Despite tea, chocolate and other painkillers, bit shaky. And... Miffed.

It stood up to 15 years, and I've stood on it with my own 19 stone several times, so it could have been worse!

For posterity, dear readers, my customised link was:

Nightmarish! Here's to a swift recovery...and a new desk. :)
Thank you! Not my best day (and more complications since). But the 'desk' is now functional again thanks to the miracle of measuring, boxes, books and magazines: that is, stacking the space beneath the collapsed end so solidly to the millimetre that it can't fall down.

Famous last words.
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