The manrobe belonged to my dear Nana. It’s blonde oak – not a wood I’m particularly fond of, but it was Nana’s so I love it anyway. It has six drawers up one side and a big cupboard. The drawers are empty except for the occasional toy – things of importance can’t really be kept in drawers that toddlers have access to. Last year the drawers were used as stairs for my little boy to climb to the top of the manrobe. I removed them and stacked them in my bedroom, along with all of the other bits and pieces that I try to keep from his busy hands. But he outsmarted me anyway, the gaps left by the drawers were now the perfect ladder.
The cupboard is where I keep my beads. It’s lockable and big, but not big enough. Finding the correct bead is difficult in this lost game of Tetris, the one I want is often at the back and on the bottom. My wires and completed pieces no longer fit and room has been made for them in the increasingly cluttered bedroom. The thin hardboard that comprises the back of the manrobe is losing it’s grip; the tiny nails that tack it into place are giving up the ghost. I will have to replace them soon before all of my beads go spilling out of the back.
My perfect world includes a room solely dedicated to my jewellery, complete with a display area for finished pieces, a large work table and an extensive and organised storage area for tools and components. I’m fiercely jealous of artists who have studios in their homes. One day I will too, but probably not until the kids have grown and abandoned us. In the meantime, I can dream. Dreams of longing, of workspace and storage solutions.