Libraries: More than Books Liz Pacey

 

The strains of 'Everlasting Love' reached my ears as I  was sitting on my balcony. Time to pop next door. How lucky am I, living a stone's throw from my local library. 

However, libraries just aren’t what they used to be… And I mean that most sincerely folks. In absolutely the best possible way.

Ours has recently had an external makeover. Including glorious new paintwork, flowerbeds, and… the acquisition of a Rat. https://hullwhatson.com/mischief-of-rats-sculpture-trail-hull/ 

 On that particular day it was celebrating its 90^th birthday. The atmosphere inside and out was buzzing. Music, speeches, local politician, talk, coffee and cake, free ice-cream with your library card, fun, laughter, games, activities, memories… in no particular order. 

I make no apology for the photo  (below) of Granny Grunt and Jojo. In the shelter of a tree on this gloriously hot July day, modelling a blanket of knitted squares. The blanket was borrowed from the children’s reading corner but you know me and wool… I had to have a snuggle. 

I’ve only lived here three years but have come to love this library. Friendly staff, books, cups of tea, books, warm space, books, meeting lovely people. Did I mention far too many tempting books? And a Yap ‘n’ Yarn group that has coincidentally introduced me to other likeminded writery people and other new – to – me groups in the city, both of the writing and the reading variety. (probably a subject for a future post)

One of my vivid childhood memories is the amount of time I spent in my local library. The thrill of having my own ticket and being able to choose books to take home. Or just sitting reading, or writing. There’s never been a time when libraries haven’t been important to me. When I was a student midwife struggling with my studies I used to stomp around declaring: ‘I’ve had enough, I’m going to be a librarian’. 

Of course, one day I hope to see my name on a library shelf. But in the meantime, I am so grateful for all the many hours of reading pleasure these revered buildings have brought me, both within their walls and then back at home. And yes, I was one of those children who used to think my mother didn’t know I was reading under the covers. 

That library  celebration day provoked a string of memories for me on how books, words and reading (cornflake packets not excluded) have shaped my life. And so many people and places to be grateful to on the way. 

We may not be exactly where we want to be on our writing journey. But we are here, and maybe we can all take a little bit of time today to look back and be grateful for all the wordy experiences (good and maybe not so good) that have brought us to this point.

An e mail dropped in my inbox the other day. Advertising a new book: 'The Wartime Librarian’s Secret'. I am fascinated by books about libraries, and bookshops, and wool shops (told you about that one before). I might just have to pay a visit next door. And to all you wonderful fiction writers… please keep filling those shelves. Then I can continue to blame you when I don't get any writing done. And my everlasting love of libraries will go on.

You will rarely find Liz without a crochet hook, a pen and notebook, knitting needles or squeaky dog toy in her hands. Sometimes more than one of these at a time. English literature,  Theology and Ministry graduate. Former nurse, midwife and home visitor for the visually impaired. For many years a regular speaker at clubs, churches and groups, Covid and personal circumstances led to a break.  But…. She is back.