Day 14: Shepherd's Bush Library - He couldn't stop smiling #30days30libraries

In Shepherd's Bush Library today, I was handed a book.It was a Thai phrase book and dictionary.Its owner was a young child, perhaps not quite three.I had just had a new library card issued (a process of less than three minutes) and was now sitting in the slightly spaceship-like work zone, on one of the computers that sat in a row.The child toddled towards me and handed me the phrasebook and when I feigned delight, promptly went back to the shelves to bring me another.He seemed giddy that there was an endless supply, sitting, waiting, to be passed over.I believe we might still be there now, giving and receiving books, if his mother had not physically stopped him in the end."Thank you," I told him, each time.He didn't speak back.But he couldn't stop smiling.

Day 12: Charing Cross Library - It's never too late to learn #30days30libraries

Their website told me that Charing Cross Library is 'a busy library serving residents, commuters and the local Chinese community' but I wasn't expecting to find it quite so buzzing on a rainy Sunday afternoon.Nor was I prepared for how well the library catered for the Chinese community.I saw it in the signs ...the books, of course ...as well as through the decorations.One man I tried to talk to gestured to me sadly that he did not speak English and then went back to reading his chinese newspaper.I spoke to Greg who told me that has been using this library for 24 years. Today he was here with his two daughters, who were half-chinese and half-french."I always come here. I've moved around London but I come back to this library when I go to Chinatown, for eating or shopping. This library has the best stock of chinese books in London.It's a centre for us. We can go to Chinatown and come here in just one visit.My daughters are half-chinese and they like eating chinese food. I tempt them to come here by promising them a tasty lunch afterwards."I explained to Greg that I was also half-chinese but that, when he asked, I could not speak or read chinese myself."Well, it's never too late to learn," said Greg and pointed me towards the library shelves where I could find a book to get me started. 

Day 11: Richmond Library - I like that it's isolated #30days30libraries

Having raced across London, ducking past festival-going crowds, Saturday shoppers and lots of people laid down with plastic bags of picnics, my journey to Richmond Library had been a little fraught.I rushed through the open doors of the library, feeling waves of relief that I'd made it there before it'd closed.I was in.I knew what I had to do.I had to get started and begin talking to people. I needed to listen.I wanted to take some photos, and get a feel for the place.I'd left my husband waiting outside for me, sitting on a patch of grass, and had promised him that I wouldn't be 'too long.'But I just couldn't do it.As though in a trance, I took a book from the shelf - Malorie Blackman's 'Boys Don't Cry' - I can't believe that I haven't read it before now - and sank down into one of the sofas.I began to read.The library had cast a spell over me.I could almost hear its voice ...You will take a book.You will find a seat.You will read. There was a young man sitting opposite me - also sunk, into book, and sofa. Lost in another world.His name was Aaron."I *should* be coming here to work," he said with a wry smile. "I'm on an Access course at Richmond College doing Literature, Law and History and I come here often to work. But also to take breaks too."He smiled again and proffered his book.A Terry Pratchett title."I love Terry Pratchett. I read him all the time.I didn't used to come here but now I can't stop.It's quiet.And I like that it's isolated from everything else."Like me, Aaron hadn't been able to stop himself from entering into the world of a book, shuttering down the noise of the outside.And like me, he was in exactly the right place to do it. 

Day 8: Bar Hill Library - It doesn't sound like you're in a library at all #30days30libraries

A little bit of a brief post today because I was in a meeting that lasted all day and so when I tried to visit Bar Hill Library in the morning, they were closed!However, an unusual little library as this one shares it space with a post office that was very busy when I came in for a nose.I could see the library though, from behind the little rope barrier ... and the closed sign.The librarian who was setting up told me that if I were able to come in an hour's time that the place would be bustling."There's a coffee morning. And a walkers' group meets here. When they are in here, it doesn't sound like you're in a library at all." 

Day 7: Burgess Hill Library - We gave the one hundred thousand pounds away #30days30libraries

Before I had even reached Burgess Hill Library, it became clear to me that it's a huge part of the community each time I asked someone for directions.Everyone knew where it was.Even the people who I hadn’t asked the way but who'd overheard me asking, pointed it out.“That way!” “It’s on the left -” “You’re very close!” Burgess Hill Library is situated inside a building that also houses Martlets Hall, an events and entertainment centre. From the outside, it doesn't perhaps look that uplifting but walking through its doors, I was immediately hit by the care, love and inspiration that was evident in every corner. I loved this ‘Killer Women’-themed bookshelf…… and this comic book display …… and the people playing board games …… and the toy library …… and the children’s artwork on the walls …… and a food collection bin for those who really needed it.The staff were going above and beyond to make this library an extraordinarily welcoming and interesting place for all, an absolute centre for the community here.I followed one of the Scrabble players out to ask her about the library.Daya, an Indian teacher, now retired, immediately showed me a display of all the events that were on at the library for the Burgess Hill festival."They are lovely people here," she told me when I asked her why she came here.“Do you live here? Have you come for the festival?” she asked me.When I told her that neither were true but that I’d come to visit Oakmeeds Community College to do a day of workshops and was going home that afternoon, she promptly invited me to stay with her overnight and so I could partake in the festival.“Have you got time to talk?” she asked me.I told her I did and she quickly settled me down in a chair, gave me a cupcake and told me about her life.“I used to work with children from ethnic minorities,” she told me. “And one day I was asked to do a talk for a nursery, really young children. I mean how could I give them a talk? But when I was there I saw these dolls in the corner. They were dressed in old baby clothes and I had an idea.What if the dolls were wearing, instead of old baby clothes, a sari from India, an Indian outfit. The children would then be able to say, what lovely fabric, look at these colours. We could start the conversation through what the dolls were wearing.An Indian boy who joined the school might come in and see the doll. He would smile. He would recognise the sari. He would point to the doll and say Mummy, he would see himself in the room. It would be positive for everyone.My husband and I used to go to Bangalore to work with the slum children there. In India, you have to pay for education after seven. I mean officially you do not have to but really that is what happens. People do not pay for their daughters to keep going to school, they pay for their sons, and so I would teach girls over there. I would be looking after my mother in law and then she would have a nap and I'd go and teach. Then I’d come back and we would have dinner. She'd never know that I’d been out.I had the idea that I could teach the girls to sew Indian clothes for the dolls. They made gathered skirts and little blouses. The first time they made 200 and we sold 194 straightaway.We didn’t need the money and so we decided to make it into a charity. We made a board from people from our church and other people we knew. We  had such fun, me and my husband. We had fourteen years of doing this together. Such fun.We made Chinese clothes, Nigerian, Polish, Somalian … I didn't know how to do Somalian clothes but I met a Somalian woman in an airport and I told her what I was doing. She took me into the toilets, undressed and showed me exactly what I needed to know, how her clothes were put together.”I had the feeling that I wasn’t the first person to be utterly charmed by Daya. I told her how much I was enjoying our conversation.“Are you bored?” she asked me.Not at all, I told her. I explained that I just wanted her to know how much I loved her story and thanked her again for sharing it with me.“Because I’m not finished,” she said. “We made all different kinds of outfits after that, that would fit children up to primary age, for dressing up and everything. We made decorations. And then, and then my husband died.That changed things. He was the treasurer and he ran it. I was just doing the fun stuff. So we decided to give it away and what we found, what we found was that we had made one hundred thousand pounds.One hundred thousand pounds.We had no overheads you see, we paid the girls in Bangalore of course but in the UK it was just in our house, it was just our telephone. No one took a wage.So we gave the one hundred thousand pounds away.We gave it to women in India who wanted more education but in the end we couldn’t give it to enough individuals fast enough and so we gave it to a building for educating nurses in India.It was such fun giving the money away, to people who needed it. I met so many different kinds of people, all with different stories.”I had been struck by a thought as I listened to Daya tell me about her life. Daya was like a library.  She was kind, she was welcoming.She was generous, she was giving to the people who needed help the most.She had endless ideas.She was full of possibilities of where life might take you if you were open to it.She had time for you if you had time for her.She was for everybody, regardless of where you were from, or what your background was. I told Daya how inspiring she was, and again how glad I was that we had met that day in Burgess Hill Library.“I’m Christian. It’s funny because when I look back at what happened, I can see that it was all God,” she told me. “He directed me.”I told her that I was an atheist.And that I thought that it was all her.We agreed to disagree and swapped addresses.She walked me to the station and we said goodbye.Hugging each other, as old friends do. 

Day 3: Finsbury Library – I’ve come here to have some peace #30days30libraries

There was some work that I needed to do before I did anything else and so I sat in one of little work spaces, all fitted with handy power points, that were scattered across the library.Next to me was a boy completing his maths homework sitting with his father.“We come here a lot for him to do his homework. There are no distractions for him here,” the father told me. He then watched his son pluck a book off a shelf and march off to another corner of the library. ‘Well, almost none.”When I’d finished sending some emails and finally let myself come up for air, I noticed that almost everyone in there, apart from the boy and his dad next to me, were very much in their own bubbles.Most sat alone. Some were reading a newspaper, or a magazine. Others worked on computers and told people off who were talking next to them.“I cannot concentrate when you are talking,” a man typing retorted to a couple of girls that greeted each other.One man simply sat, with nothing in front of him.The bookshelves were curved, giving the impression of waves, dapples of water across a lake’s surface.I saw a woman, who had a well-stuffed trolley next to her, which made me wonder if she lived on the streets, flicking through a huge pile of books in front of her.As soon as she had finished looking through one book, she reached urgently for the next. It looked as though she were taking notes, or conducting research. I glanced at the books and glimpsed a couple of the titles: Celebrity Bakes was one. Another, a glossy hardback cookbook based on the cuisine of Argentina.“I’m having a really bad day,” she told me. “I’ve come here to have some peace. I really need to calm down.”I spoke to another woman who told me that she came here quite often to use the computers. She owned a tablet but there were lots of things that she couldn’t do on it and so the computers were handy for her.But today, she had some time on her hands before work. She sat in a corner, looking at her phone, eating her lunch.“I’ve come in here today,” she said, “just to get away from it all a bit. Escape from …” She waved in the direction of the outside world.She wasn’t the only one.  

Day 2: Hornsey Library - You're in a library, you know #30days30libraries

I was invited to Hornsey library by author pals Emer Stamp and Polly Faber and we also roped in Keren David and S.F.Said too. There are a lot of lovely authors in Haringey, and I've also discovered a rather fabulous selection of fine buns ...We had arranged to meet in the cafe part of the library upstairs around lunchtime and so before then I snooped around the book shelves to get a feel for what the Hornsey's like. I'd been here once before but had mostly spent time in the children's library. I remember well it being chocker-full with little ones singing but I hadn't explored any of the other areas.The whole of the main room felt like it was humming with production. I was very lucky to get a seat as almost every desk was taken over with either text books or a computer and a slightly hunched-over person to boot.Matthew, who was studying for his Biology GCSE, had the minor misfortune of having a spare seat next to him as I'm sorry to say I disturbed his note-taking to speak to him in an appropriately hushed library whisper."I've been coming here for two weeks," he told me. "All my friends are here." He gestured to the rest of the room, the rows of backs."It's a good atmosphere for working. There's a room over there which is for quiet study. That's why all of us are here. You should look in there. But it gets very busy and so that's why I'm out here."I didn't want to disturb the quiet study room as well but here's the view from through the window.  One of the main attractions for Matthew was clearly the community that surrounded him here.When I asked why he preferred revising in the Hornsey rather than at home, he immediately responded, "Well, I can meet my friends for lunch here."As the main reason that I'd made the journey to Haringey that day was to chat to other authors over buns, I whole-heartedly understood this motivation. The library is a space to work, certainly, but also to connect to others about our work. Or completely different things. But to other actual real life people, that were sitting next to us.For Matthew going through his exams, and for me in the process of writing and publishing books, it offered us the opportunity to speak to and share with people who were doing the same thing as we were.I left Matthew still busily taking notes and went in search of the cafe.It was busy there too. S.F. almost ran towards a spare table and we deposited bags and collected chairs (having to disturb a life-drawing class that was going on in the room next door to find enough for us all.) Emer and S.F. brought with them a spectacular range of baked goods and we dug in. We were only a little icing-smeared by the time Polly and Keren joined us.We spoke about what we were each up to, shared stories and worries and jokes but approximately 90% of our author conversation was filled with buns and laughing so hard, we were shushed by a nearby table of some more teenagers revising."You're in a library, you know!" they said, warningly.But by that point, we really had the giggles.