Desk lust #2

I am suffering desk envy. My little 1.2metres of my own, forget the room, has been invaded by the Pixie who has worked out his arms get longer if he stands on tippy toes. The width of my desk now makes a ruler look luxurious.

So when I was sent this desk, I thought, why this is what my writing environment should be like. It has the monastic air with that picture of a beehive and the rustic wooden furniture gives it a Shaker feel. Notice the lack of computer and lovely book holders. Behold the lovely samplers on the walls as if Emily Dickinson and Louisa May Alcott got together to swap stitches instead of notes. And don't forget the light, the light, the light.

Any guesses who creates at this desk? Not in a million years? A poet perhaps or some fabulous maker of calm? Alas no,
The

desk

belongs

to...

WOODY ALLEN!