With apologies to Virginia Woolf, I need more than a room of my own in which to be creative. A floor of a house, maybe, or a whole house. A whole big house, with workrooms and libraries and heaps and heaps of storage space.

I am tired of making things in tiny corners, miserly areas of flat surface.

It takes twice as long to make anything, because each time I stop I need to put everything away, the materials and the half-finished creations.

No, three times, because before I start I have to remember where I stashed everything last time.