Spaces

I wrote these two conflicting paragraphs to show the difference between writing spaces. Every writer has their favourite place, hideaway. Somewhere where they can be at peace and just get it all down on the laptop, or like me on the humble notebook (Easons is my favourite haunt).
What could suit one individual could drive another crazy.

Hope you like the paragraphs below.

"Mum. Muuum!" Another call from the kitchen.
She tried to ignore the shout, thinking if there's really something wrong they'll come looking for me.
Still, her little moment of peace had evaporated like steam through an open window.
Frowning she glanced back down at the notebook on her lap and the two lines that mocked her.
She viciously scribbled them out. Then after a moment ripped out the page, crumbled it into a ball and tossed it over the couch.




The rain rattled the sides of the glasshouse and John raised his head from his work.
The desk in front of him was an old planter's table, still decorated with leavings of the spring potting, compost dry and dusty.
And much as the wind howled and wailed about the building he felt as safe and warm as if inside the belly of a whale, his own private space.
"Enter at your peril, writer at work" read the sign on the door and no one did, enter that is, with the exception of Sixpence the terrier who lay asleep on an old sack oblivious to his master's genius and the storm outside.