Don't you just love it?
The Reverend Edward McCann types beside a wood stove in his log cabin in Minnesota, while his drawers dry on a line across the wall - sometime around the turn of the century.
I know I've written this before, but in this case it seems even more appropriate.
All I want is a room somewhere
Far away from the cold night air
With one enormous chair
(And one enormous typewriter ...)
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly