Often we let our dreams remain just that — a fantasy! A longing etched in the heart and mind, slowly dissipating into oblivion.
One such dream had lightly rested in my spirit for a long time and finally dared to take form within me last spring. For a week or so the idea gently took root, and as always I tried to stomp out the ridiculous notion! It would not obey and instead reached deeper into my consciousness, my dream took on a dramatic design. At last, I could see it! My writing studio!
For another week I pondered the possibilities, the position for such a building in the garden, exploring the numerous different garden offices for sale as well as taking into account the overall cost.
With all the boxes ticked I approached my husband to discuss the plan and his enthusiasm mirrored mine! After much deliberation we settled on a building and time-frame — delivery was organised for the middle of January!
It was wonderful in the midst of this dark and traumatic month here in the UK to have this positive exciting new project underway.
I revelled in planning all the elements of the venture, from the construction to the completion, overseeing all the various stages.
First trees and bushes had to be cleared; I bade a fond sad farewell to a beloved acacia tree and climbing roses. In its place, two super guys laid a cement base and the light and airy feel to the corner lifted my spirits and I could not help but give a little twirl on this temporary perfect outdoor dance floor!
Whilst waiting for the building electricity was an urgent necessity and a professional company explained that this would need to come from the mains in the house. Furthermore, a trench 600 mm (2 feet) deep needed to be dug from the house to the new building for the armoured electrical cable. My husband took on this unenviable task, digging in all weathers, and for all his hard work I happily listened to his descriptive monologues of each varying layer of clay (there are many!)
Soon enough the building arrived and the two guys came back to erect the kit-form building.
Within four days, the piles of wood and building parts had been transformed into a magnificent new garden office. At their suggestion decking was laid all around the building and this complemented the modern sleek design perfectly!
With the exterior completed it was time to tackle the interior and at first I was daunted by the gaps between walls, ceilings and floor. No fear, I was reassured by my husband, as all would be finished beautifully and during the coldest days in the year he filled, painted, added skirting, coving, trims as necessary.
In less than two days the electricity was all put into place and at last there was light and power in the building. All in time for the new carpet and curtains.
An opening ceremony was held one sunny evening and with great aplomb, I cut the ribbon strewn across the handles and we stepped inside. My mother poured the champagne she’d brought and we had a wonderful celebratory time picnicking on the soft carpet!
Finally it was time for a heave and a ho! Three days later all my furniture was in place, which included ‘borrowing’ a bookcase from another room and putting my all-important ornaments, knick knacks and pictures into place.
The pièce de résistance was the most unusual and stunning present from my mother — a beautiful Tiffany lamp. Can you see the dragonflies flitting about?
I have now fully moved in and I am ecstatic. Ensconced within this cosiest of writing retreats I’ve found that creativity has flourished! It is peaceful within, the rain on the roof a mediative tune for my soul, the tap-dancing pigeon gracing me with its presence in-between nibbling seeds below the bird feeder just a metre or so away from me. The light is startlingly sheer and invigorating. Within me the transformation has been astounding, my heart is full of joy and energy, life feels lighter and more positive. Already I feel inspiration bubbling within me!
“Dreams are the illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.” Marsha Norman
Note: All photographs by & copyright ©Annika Perry