'A woman must have money and a room of one's own if she is to write fiction.'

I'm talking myself into renting an office. The problem is I can't really afford one and as I have a perfectly adequate kitchen table to write at, I don't really need one. I'm never more aware of how much I want one, though, than I am on a Saturday morning; when the Guardian publish their 'Writers' rooms' section. Just look at this week's!

With the £600 Herman Miller chair, the Bang & Olufsen stereo, and all that white, it's my idea of workspace heaven. It belongs to Francesca Simon, author of the Horrid Henry books. I've just googled her and there are sixteen (!) in the series. But I imagine it would be easy to be so prolific if it meant you got to spend all day in an office that looked like that.

The fact is that, wherever that place might be, I do need somewhere to work and write that is quiet, uncluttered, and uninhabited by other people who might ask me to unload the dishwasher at a moment's notice. There is some office space down in the village. They aren't the most beautiful units in the world, and I've had to put my name on the waiting list but I reckon I can justify the cost of renting one if by doing so I manage to get a lot more work done.