10 Happy Places to Do Good Work


10 Happy Places to Do Good Work

Do work you love in a place you love.

That’s my goal, anyway. As an independent writer and producer I'm fortunate enough to have some great clients and the ability to write and produce audio pretty much anywhere (thank you modern technology!) That said, finding productive, peaceful places to work around a chaotic schedule of travel has been both a challenge and a delight since I moved out of Central London. So with that in mind I’ve decided to share a few of my most joyous places to work and shelter from the storm of a personal life in... ehem... transition.

  1. Wellcome Library. Location: Wellcome Collection, 183 Euston Road, NW1 2BE
I’m starting with my favourite. The Wellcome Collection is an incredible building: the 1936 legacy of the philanthropist, pharmaceutical engineer and collector of things Sir Henry Solomon Wellcome. Next door to the Trust, which continues his research to this day, is a museum and library to explore "life, health and our place in the world”. Which is great, because I’ve been doing a lot of that anyway.

Wellcome in, curious one
I can’t remember when I first joined as a reader here, but I think it was when I lived on the other side of London. I have been coming here to write on and off for a few years. The Wellcome Collection features enchanting exhibitions across the range of spaces, lovely cakes and a marvellous bookshop too. Don’t go in the bookshop unless you have a lot of money to spend fast though. It’s like crack. Not that I know what crack is ‘like', but I mean crumbly, white and very smokable… obviously.

The library itself is an airy space, with wide staircases, a few fine paintings and row upon row of roomy desks with neat, modern lamps, comfortable chairs and fascinating tomes. I usually end up sitting somewhere near heart attacks and problem pregnancies, but on special occasions will get there early enough to grab a seat in the reading room. There are just a few choice desks on the upper floor of this room which allow a view from the balcony into the hall below where school trips and visitors mill throughout the day in pursuit of knowledge and enlightenment. If you’re so inclined, it’s also a great place to cry silently as you contemplate great personal trauma, because there’s only about one desk per alcove.

And did I mention that the recently refurbished reading room is beautiful? This is what a library ought to look like.

You can leave your crap in the library lockers if you’re lucky enough to get one, or just in the main cloakroom on the ground floor where they’ll supply you with a clear plastic bag for your nonsense,  I find this much easier, given that there is always a fiddly amount of crap that I still NEED to have on my person at all times.

Funnily enough, the Wellcome Library is not a million miles from my former home, yet comfortably far away that I still feel I have a right to be there. In spite of the anonymity libraries permit their busy, thoughtful visitors, and indeed the specialism of this medical collection, this library has always felt like the right one for me. I’ve written things I’m proud of here and the building fills me with energy and enlightenment. I love you Wellcome. And I love the librarian’s moustache too.
  1. The Train / Beautiful Railway stations. Location: The Purposeful In-Between
Did I mention my job requires a lot of location recording? Fortunately I LOVE being on the move. Seeing different cities and areas of the country makes me love and understand this patchwork island all the more. 
King's Cross with you. Very cross.
But doesn't he wear it well?
The writer on a train with cactus

However, this also means I am spending a vast amount of time on trains at the moment. Luckily, I really enjoy trains, even more so after a visit to the National Railway Museum in York (see pic below) And thanks again to modern technology, thundering through the countryside at 80mph in a metal cabin is no obstacle to getting things done.

As long as I have a laptop, headphones, charger, adapter, cables, hard drive, iLok USB containing licences…. I have a big rucksack called Bumblebee. Everything fits in Bumblebee. Including ibuprofen for an inevitably sore back.

Elegant Marylebone: the genteel station
I’ve always found trains to be a wonderful place to write. There’s something about being in an interstitial state that inspires thought, reflection and unchecked scribbling for me. The Purposeful In-Between, if you like: we are going somewhere, but we know when we will arrive. (Well, mostly). That leaves you with free, unstructured time to get things done. And that’s very helpful when there’s a mountain of scripting to achieve or an unusual subject to research without distraction.

I’m not saying the wifi situation is always that peachy or gratis. Nor am I ever complacent about booking a seat with a plug and table, but isn’t is WONDERFUL that we can make these marvellous machines our moving offices
The writer delighted by locomotion

  1. Bishopsgate Library. Location: 230 Bishopsgate, EC2M 4QH
Of course there is more than one library in my list. Libraries are the second-most original altar of enlightenment: a rapidly declining public amenity that offers quiet space for reflection, privacy to peruse new ideas and pursue knowledge. And there are NO POPUPS or virus alerts if you pick up a misleading title.

I came across Bishopsgate Library when searching for a quiet spot in which to write some notes before an afternoon recording in East London. The Institute opened on New Years Day 1895 as a centre for culture and learning for people living and working in the City of London.
Quirky Bishopsgate
I’d just about given up, having emerged at Liverpool Street Station to a freezing wind and the usual hubbub of workers and commuters. For a while I desperately searched for a coffee house but as I happened to be also dying for a wee wee, couldn’t find one that allowed me to both purchase coffee and make room for the aforementioned beverage in my bladder (in reverse order). The familiar, corporate outlets around here were all the ‘drop-in’ kind for commuters on their way somewhere else. Even the expensive boutiquey place was just a bar. Stepping back into the mithering cold, I found myself blindly heading in the direction of Spitalfields, a former, familiar spot, and came upon an interesting doorway. Being vulnerable to attractive architecture, I stopped to admire it.

Perhaps it was the familiarity of this Arts and Crafts meets Art Nouveau facade, designed by the same Charles Harrison Townsend in 1895 as the Horniman Museum in South London, of which I am fond, but the Bishopsgate Institute opened its arms to me like a saviour.
This building features several loos, a fine, sunny cafe, a Great Hall for lectures and general clevering and… wait for it: a peaceful library, traditionally assembled with ceiling-high books, odd flags and little green lamps. What a marvellous comfort. It’s free, open every weekday (late on Wednesdays) and although I didn’t explore them that day, beneath the library are some important historical collections on London, the labour movement, protest and campaigning. I feel like this will be important in the construction of future podcast programmes.
  1. A Remote Airbnb. Location: Wherever inspires you.

If you’re going to take a solo holiday in midwinter when you’re really, really sad, take 1) A bottle of wine 2) A hot water bottle and 3) Some writing to do.

Far from sanity, I took a trip to York recently and after I’d conquered all the museums and cake offerings, retired in terror to my lonely Airbnb. Fortunately, I am a woman of projects, and surrounded by the paintings of fellow nut job Vincent Van Gough in my quirky themed accommodation, set about researching and writing a video guide with gusto. It’s incredible how you can make one room a home if you fill it with ideas, and for two nights I did so. 

In the past I’ve also found Airbnbs and holiday escapes the perfect place to write. Last year I went to a farm in Winchester a couple of days ahead of my partner arriving, and got some great writing done. My first ever solo holiday some years back consisted of a remote farm in the snowy Peak District, long, soul-searching walks and in the evening, novelling by the log burner with wine. This is how I would like life to be all the time.

  1. Foyles Cafe. Location: Foyles Bookshop, 107 Charing Cross Road WC2H OEB

If you don’t want to go full library, then bookshops present a tantalising offer. They already smell like inspiration, so why not toss a waft of coffee into the mix?

As a teenager I’d come to London with friends and would have 2 must-have stops on my list: 1) The BBC Buildings so that I could loiter in the street in the hope that the boss of Radio 1 would recruit a 14 year-old girl to DJ on national music radio. 2) The mega bookshops of Charing Cross Road.

Once you’ve enjoyed the treasure trove of antique booksellers down Charing Cross Road, you could wind up at the biggies: The flagship, multi-storey stores where you can get every book in print, ever. At times I’ve wandered around leaving post-its with my own name to reserve my spot on the shelves of the fiction section. How annoying that must be for the staff. In the days before the internet though, Blackwells and Foyles WERE the place to go for that odd textbook that your local regional bookseller didn’t have just sitting on a dusty shelf.
Foyles Cafe: Industrial and Industrious
Today, only Foyles remains of CXR’s book giant Mecca. It was refurbished into its current 4 floor, 8 footplate state in 2014, containing 4 miles of bookshelves so that I barely recognised it when I moved up the road (much like most of the Tottenham Court Road area of old on account of the Crossrail project!) On further investigation, I realised this is because the premises I used to visit as a younger human are now a few yards along the road from the bookshop’s original 1929 location of 113-119 Charing Cross Road. I remember now, vividly, the bright red-lettered vertical sign, and think traces of it remain at the end of the block. Mind you, Charing Cross Road changes a little with every visit: perhaps a facet of its personality, in addition to the vast improvement works that have been steadily repointing their way North for the past three years.

What a ramble, what I mean to say is that, in the spirit of the original Foyles Literary Luncheons, their stunning events space is home to free talks and performances from all manner of super artists, and when it’s not being used, they spread out the long, wooden tables to accommodate happy readers, writers, friends and coffee-drinkers. Competition can be fierce on a Saturday and I wouldn’t recommend hogging a pew for longer than your latte permits at those times, but when it’s quieter, it’s a truly inspirational space, designed for the sharing and spreading of great ideas. You can find out a little more about the history of Foyles here. I find it all rather interesting.
  1. Old Reliable. Location: Wherever I need her to be

All hail my Victorian writing desk. This is one of the first pieces of furniture I purchased when I bought my first flat. In fact, given that I’d recently emptied the contents of my bank account into bricks and mortar, I probably shouldn’t have bought it at all, but here she is: £250 quid and delivered lovingly from somewhere very Northern.

Please admire her graceful drawers and frail legs. I love the markings of a thousand careless teacups on her platform, the old CH BOOKS stickers on her drawers and the sound they make when they open. I am enchanted by the rattle of her ring pulls upon slightest vibration in the room.  I love the secrets she holds and the graceful potential of the work that can be done here.

This desk came with me to the flat my partner and I shared until recently, and was the only piece of furniture I left with. I said goodbye to the the chipped, magazine-laden coffee table where I’d perch my slippers from the sofa, the mahogany bookcase with its green felt linings and comforting dusty smell, the coffin-like armoire that creaked and complained every time it was opened, the paint-smattered kitchen table where I planned so much more and the understated silliness of a chess-board side-table, the Morris & Co. cushions that made me feel fancy.... Goodbye beloved objects…goodbye….I wept….

...But my writing desk was damn well coming with me.

The moment I installed this at my parents house, a little piece of my world was put back together and my mind had an anchor. So however much I am on the road, 5 minutes of sitting here helps me find my way again.


  1. The British Library. Location: 96 Euston Road, NW1 2DB

Just when things were getting emotional, eh? Here is the big beast: the intimidating juggernaut of the library world. This is the building that leaves country librarians swooning off their step-ladders, and the most determined readers trembling at each page turn. 
Brit. Lib

It’s the second largest library in the world. Here live 150 million items including Magna Carta manuscripts and copies of every book ever published the UK, however shite. Alongside events, exhibitions, courses and god knows what else, this exciting complex may be ‘modern' in design but still has a sense of the labyrinthine of it. I’m still finding my way around. 

The moment you step through the red-brick exterior into the courtyard, you feel invited into a protective space. Your invisibility cloak activates and soon you and all the other nerdy nerds are milling about busily on your individual quests for knowledge.

This building is the largest public building in the UK and was built between 1982 and 1997. 
Whatever you think of the architecture, it’s Grade I listed, so there. There are 11 Reading Rooms, 5 public floors, at least two (possibly many more) cafes all surrounding the central tower of George III’s books: A library fit for a king.
Too scared to take a pic INSIDE the
 reading room

Last year, I must note, the incredible maps exhibition held on the ground floor. It was a true tour de force of maps. Mapping fantastic. Map nirvana. Expect unrivalled exhibitions here, it’s the national collection of stuffs, after all. It’s not like they’re working with the second-best china. Although to be fair, the first best is probably in the British Museum down the road.

My furtive and frankly highly-intimidated visits began with an interview in order to acquire my reader pass (the photo upon which divulges my deep satisfaction at being accepted into the social echelons of 'people who piss about with books’) in addition to coffee-meetings in the cafes, and just one of the humanities reading rooms, where I stepped through a humble doorway at the end building and found myself gazing upon a sea of heads buried thoughtfully beneath lamps, bottoms on wide, cosy chairs, bedded in for the long-haul. 

Breathtaking. My thrill at being here is rarely dampened. It’s a great place in which to do serious work, but not one I feel cheeky enough to fanny about doing my own writing in. Take what you will from that.
  1. Bed. Location: good question.

This one gets an honorary mention, because, should you find yourself in a situation where you cannot get out of it, bed is probably the best place to be.
"But there is so much to liiiiiive for"

Three months ago, faced with a huge workload and an empty heart, I set up shop here in the mornings, tapping away on my laptop until full vertical was possible. And it wasn’t one of those sad, weird, lonely experiences you see in breakup movies. For starters, my parent’s spare room is WAAAY too nice for that and I’d never dream of eating ice cream there, even if I’d wanted to (ASIDE: stuff anyone who can eat ice cream when they’re truly heartbroken. Liars.)

No, I was joined each morning by dog, cat and coffee and the lot of us made for a merry band of creatives; the one lounging, wagging on a floor-rug, another variously playing with my feet or digging claws into my chest….
...and the third person was either the dog or cat.


Don’t judge. The animal spirit is wise: If you can’t face the day, let the day face you.


  1. A Makeshift Studio. Location: My parent's dining room

Peck, peck, peck
Well this looks like an upgrade, I thought to myself, sitting down to work on a radio programme about great homes and gardens whilst looking directly at one. Having converted my parent’s dining room into a temporary workspace cum art studio I found myself inspired by the fiery Autumnal colours, a little green woodpecker and two fat, noisy pheasants.


I never understand how people can get their best work done in offices that permit no view of the sky or outdoors. For a large part of my career I’ve worked in windowless radio studios aerated by whirring air con units in the corner. Indeed it was always my ambition to one day have a studio with a window to the actual world. The day that wish came true, I was able to both stare wistfully into the pigeon-filled, smog-choked void of the buildings of number 39 Leicester Square and number 9 Irving Street, WC2, whilst enjoying the musical lilt of a hand dryer in the adjacent toilet.
Fatty

Heady days indeed, but the ability to open a French door and step onto a patio of fresh Sussex air and birdsong for a breather wins hands down. Nature wins, hands down, actually.

  1. The Office. Location: Cities, Towns, Industrial Estates and villages nationwide.

I always like to finish a conversation which something that undermines my entire, previous contribution. In this instance, I’d like to take my hat off to one of the offices where I’ve been working. 

Having spent nearly 2 years popping in here 3 days per week, making the heady 6 minute walk between my former home and workplace was part of the scenery. Sometimes I’d pop home for lunch with my partner. This workplace was part of my ‘home’ experience by proximity, as much as I usually try to keep the two separate.

When you live with someone and plan a future together, you put down roots which tangle around the lives of those on your familiar path; up through the paving stones, around the feet of shop workers, coffee shop owners, the homeless lady on the corner, buildings, sculptures, tube stations, favourite lunch spots, office bods who always smoke in the same spot and the same times of day, shops where you dashed in for that last-minute gift together… And when it ends, the routine language of your shared world is suddenly too painful to speak.

For that reason I didn’t feel able to face the office for a while after my breakup. The crossover with my lost world was too awful. Fortunately the nature of the project I was working on meant I didn’t need to be there, besides the monthly studio recording session. When I did get the nerve up to return for the first time, I was surprised at what I found.

I cried all the way from Warren Street tube and took a few breaths before turning the corner onto the street where the office lay. My key worked in the lock. The door opened easily with the mechanical, intuitive combination of foot and elbow whilst holding coffee cup / turning key and standing on one leg. There were the familiar faces, always welcoming, saying ‘hello’. Nobody made a big deal. I felt welcome. And I realised that this is pretty much how I have felt every day I’ve stepped in here for the past two years. I chose to work in this place first and foremost because I liked the group of people who share their desks and choose to care about each other. They are an uncommonly good lot to find at the heart of the London media scene. I was overwhelmed on that day not because of the departure I felt from my old life, but from the rush of normality I hadn’t felt in weeks.

Good people make a good place.  If you too find yourself adrift some time, I hope one of these special places brings you back to yourself and helps you do something amazing.


Late addition: 6th March 2018
11. The Southbank Centre, Waterloo


I left this one off the list for a while, because I was avoiding it, but after a glittering March afternoon working here by the Thames and an exceptional vegan banana and coconut cake,  I'd like to welcome this old favourite back to the list. Forgive me Southbank. You'll always have a special magic.



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