Attic

Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it? I was going to write something from The House of Stories on Friday, and then I didn't know what to say, apart from 'pray' and 'think' and 'Vive la France'.

Think. What about all the world getting together about this? What about working out what the terrorists want us to do and doing something different? What about long term thinking?


And now, here is a little bit of something to share with you. For those of you who write, it might give you ideas.

Picture a very ordinary looking house in an ordinary looking street. Go upstairs, and you will find another flight of stairs. Up you go. Open the door.

You are in a pleasant, comfortable attic. It's a loft conversion, so it has beams in the ceiling. The floor is polished wood and there are four louvred windows. There are papers on the floor and a small desk in a corner. A woman is sitting on the rug, writing. She loves this attic and is deeply, truly grateful to have it. She can hear the storm raging round the house and rain hurling against the windows, and knows that, on this November day, the light is beginning to fade.

She gets up and looks down from the window. Now that the trees are nearly bare, she can see all the way to the car lights at the other side of town as people drive home from work. There are lights in a few windows. One is an attic, like hers. She goes back to her story, writes until she's satisfied with what she's done, and goes downstairs.

Later, she comes back and again she looks down from her window. All the way up and down the hill, there are lights in attic windows.