“There isn't any symbolism. The sea is the sea. The old man is an old man. The boy is a boy and the fish is a fish. The shark are all sharks no better and no worse. All the symbolism that people say is shit. What goes beyond is what you see beyond when you know.” - Ernest Hemingway

Sometimes the difference between your dreams and reality is staggering. In my dreams, for instance, I write at a desk...and not one of those messy, paper-infested, dust traps either...in my dream world it’s one of those awe inspiringly clean, over-designed numbers that look like something out of Architectural Digest (and are probably death to any kind of creative thinking). In reality, I’m like a cat...well, okay, a cat that can write...in that I have “spots” that I will curl up and write in...at one end of the dining room table...on the sofa, by the radiator, in the living room...cozy nooks where I can concurrently write and “watch” an episode of The New Avengers.

Which means that I basically drag my laptop from room to room and any kind of “desk accessory” is about as useless as a snowman in the tropics. Which doesn’t stop me lusting over things like this set of faux shagreen pencils...in 'dream desk utopia' these would sit on the desk and look both chic and efficient. In reality, I would put them in a drawer for “safe keeping” and find them a few years later...trust me, this has happened with other dream desk accessories...I’ve re-discovered letter openers, writing paper, and other sundries with the wild excitement of a five year old on Christmas morning...I don’t need to add pencils to the list of missing, presumed hiding behind an egg timer.