Day 10: West Library - A meeting place for everybody #30days30libraries
My last part of the triangle of the Islington libraries before we cast off our ropes and point our boat in the direction of East London.
I confess to spending most of my time in the West Library in their lobby. It's an airy space that acts as a large foyer in between the adult and children's library rooms.I needed to charge my laptop and a helpful librarian pointed me towards the plug sockets and comfortable chairs in the lobby.Whilst I sat there, a woman and two men sat on the chairs on the opposite side of the foyer and though they talked in low voices, I could not help but overhear some of their conversation.The men were clearly part of some organisation that the woman was supporting. They showed her a couple of videos where I overheard them saying that the man speaking on the video had seen his mother killed. They talked of ISIS. Later I discovered that they were part of the Association of Woman and Youth Against Fundamentalism and were working to help women and young people in Camp Liberty escape to Albania.
When they had left, their seats became occupied by two police officers.I asked them what brought them to the library that day, if they were perhaps coming here to take a break."People always think that but we are here to run a surgery, we're here regularly, to talk to anyone who would like to talk to us. It's all about community engagement," one of them told me.The other explained, "Sometimes people find it easier to approach us in here rather than on the street or in the station.It's a quiet, warm, light space.A meeting place for everybody."
Day 9: Bexhill Library – It’s everyone’s sitting room #30days30libraries
Bexhill Library is the third most-used library in East Sussex.Henry, one of the librarians, showed me around this afternoon.“I used to work in a cave. I mean, literally, a cave - it was a sort of tourist attraction. I was good at it, good at selling, but I didn’t really believe in it.This,” Henry gestured to everything around him, “it’s all free, it’s for everyone. You can push a book into someone’s hands – something you think that they might like - and they don’t have to pay a thing. If they don’t enjoy it, it doesn’t matter. You’re not saying, have a burger with that, have a coke with that. There’s nowhere else like this. Some people come here when we open and they stay here until we close. This is their sitting room. Sometimes we have to remind them gently that it’s not just their sitting room, it’s everyone’s sitting room.They want to do the crosswords in the paper and we have to stop them. We tell them you can photocopy it and then you can do it but you can’t do the crossword in that newspaper. It belongs to all of us.”Henry pointed out to me the reference section that was popular in the library.
“It’s a mistake to say that everything is online nowadays," he told me. "We get people here who are interested in coins or stamps and we can’t just push those people towards a computer. They still use these books. We need to cater for all of our customers.”There was gentle bustle of activity at Bexhill.A woman came in to ask about the bus timetable and recycling system. I listened to one of the librarians patiently explaining it all to her.There were a brother and sister doing homework and also many older people using the desks. In the children’s library, a small girl delightedly presented her mother with a book.I noticed Matthew embroidering at one of the tables downstairs.He was lost in his activity; consumed by the careful placement and tracking of his needle and thread.He had a photograph of a cat before him that looked alarmingly identical to my parents’ cat. He had used it to make a complicated-looking pattern.
The first black, hatched lines had begun to take shape on the material.“I started doing this after I had a mental breakdown,” he told me. “I come to the library to do it because it’s calm here.”I asked him how often he came here.He answered without looking up from his stitching, the words tripping off his tongue quickly.“As much as I possibly can.”
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 6: Teddington Library - Her mind can go in every direction #30days30libraries
Brenda travels down from Newcastle every month to look after her granddaughter Sadie for a couple of days and always includes a library visit in their days together.
"I come here because there's so much that Sadie can do here. There's every book that you can think of, it's such a good selection.Every time she walks in, she goes straight up to the rug and goes round it saying every animal name that she knows. (A colourful oval rug stretches across most of the floor of the children's library illustrating different animals.) Or she might use some of those little seats to make a tower and then knock them down again."Brenda and Sadie did not realise however that there was also a garden that they could explore. I only knew because someone had tweeted me about it.
It was a small paradise.
I spoke to two women taking a break from their office on one of the benches, under a tree.One of them told me: "I use this library and that was how I knew about the garden."It did feel like it was a secret space, treasured by those who knew of its existence.The other woman explained she was big library user."I used to go all the time when my daughter is small - I went to classes and that kind of thing - and now that she is eight, she uses it for her work. I've banned Google for when she researches projects because I never knew what she might find. But in the library, her mind can go in every direction. She uses the encyclopaedias and discovers things that she never would if she just went online."Her friend added: "It's a safe space too. She can wander around it. And so children can be independent."As I left Teddington Library, Sadie had begun to run races with her grandma across the expanse of lawn.Her arms were spread out to her sides, as though she had no fear of falling.
Day 5: Brighton Jubilee Library - If he walked in here now ... #30days30libraries
James came to the Jubilee Library to work on his book. It was a collection of illustrated stories about people he had met, the lives they had led.
"They do need more tables here," he told me. It's a sunny Sunday in Brighton and there's not a free seat in the house. I'd met Nikki Sheehan here who gave me a tour. Nikki told me it was very much 'towels at dawn' at the moment. There are a lot of revisers and many like to secure a place by spreading a desk space with papers and pencil cases (and perhaps a half-empty donut bag) and then disappearing for a while.
Nikki took me to the children's library and showed me the 'climbing wall.'"Is it really one?" I asked Nikki, thinking there was nothing that the Jubilee did not have."No," Nikki told me gently but kindly took a photo of me trying to prove otherwise.
We were meeting up with Tatum Flyn and Jane McLoughlin for some library chat in a space that had been reserved for us by the lovely librarian, Stephanie Coates.
But before then, I spoke at length with James who was eager to talk.He came to the library at least twice a week to work on his book.He told me about a man called David who he was writing a chapter about. He'd met him at the V&A in the sixties when he'd noticed him drawing some of the statues and then selling his pictures.They'd got talking and James had learnt David's life story. He'd been prisoner of war and then a hugely successful restaurant owner in London - owning three houses and two boats - but had lost it all after taking on a shadowy partner into the business.I admired James' work and he drew a P in calligraphy for me but told me that David's work was much better than his.
"Have you any children?" He asked me.I told him that I didn't and when I asked him if he had any, he also shook his head but immediately started telling me about a little girl who he'd met in the library yesterday. She was wearing, James was keen to explain, a brilliantly impressive and bizarre put-together outfit that her mother had told him was all of her own choosing. He'd made a calligraphy of her name for her too.James got the ideas of doing his drawings thanks to the David he was writing about, who he'd met so many years ago.He had started making drawings at the V&A too after he had met David but in the end they had both been asked to leave the museum. James thought that was because of him."If he walked in here now, I would like to be apologise to him," James said.He looked towards the entrance of the Jubilee that was directly in view from his table.People came and went.James kept his eye on the door, searching for a face he might recognise.
Day 4: South Library - We have a lot of fun #30days30libraries
There was a queue for the photocopier at South Library today.
One man told me that he only came to this library to use the photocopier or the computers.However, for Sam, it was all about the books. It was his first visit to the South Library today. He was local to the area but had never been here before. He was weighing up whether or not to borrow 'Slaughterhouse Five' when I spoke to him.
A woman scrutinised a book with a large magnifying class, sitting in a corner, for a good ten minutes before deciding to take it.Due to the way the South Library is designed with very separate rooms for books, computers and children's books, it has a very different feel to other libraries that I have so far visited.The book room only contains bookshelves and a few seats ...
... and the computer room, only tables and computers.
"It's quiet today," one of librarians told me. "I do think it has got quieter here in the last few years." Admittedly the book room was almost empty when I first arrived but in the space of five minutes, I noted there were several people lined up to use the photocopier, someone else enquiring about how to get a library card and a few borrowers returning and taking out items.When I asked him who he thought used the library the most, he told me,"We have a lot of schools here in the week. My colleague who runs the sessions has built up really good relationships with the classes and so the kids often come here after school too.And we run classes for under fives and babies for parents and carers. Wind the bobbin up, those kinds of songs, and a story. They get a prize if they know what a bobbin is."I asked him what he thought people got out of the classes.He invited me to come along to the one they were hosting next week. "Academically, it's good for motor skills, I suppose, and hand to eye coordination.But really, well, we have a lot of fun."
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.
Day 1: Twickenham Library - My imaginary friend has powers here #30days30libraries
I managed to get in about five people's way taking photographs as I rocked up outside Twickenham library this afternoon.
A family of a father and two sons, a couple of women with book bags slung over their shoulders, an older man who was standing in the doorway waiting to meet someone."Sorry," I muttered to the family as I stepped right in front of them, trying to get a straight(ish) record of this stone:
I was almost taken aback when the older boy, who seemed about eight, smiled up at me. "Don't worry," he said.It's ridiculous but true that living in the capital you don't expect strangers to be friendly, let alone to forgive your clumsiness.Inside, there were a few armchairs set about the ground floor, each one nestled with person and book, bonded as though they were one.I decided to explore the children's library, partly I'm sure because of the friendly boy that had passed me as I entered.
I found the family with the two sons. The friendly boy was called Henry and his brother was called Joseph.Henry showed me his favourite place to sit in the library, the seat by the window and so you could look at people going past on the street as you read, whilst Joseph preferred one of the soft green chairs, which he dubbed the poo-poo chair.They showed me some of the books they liked while their dad flicked through the shelves, adding more and more to their stack.
One of them was a book which had pages designed in such a way that you could make a new creature out of two halves of different animals, an 'eleger' (elephant and tiger) or a 'zekey' (zebra and a monkey.)"Where else in the world would we be able to see a zekey?" I asked the boys.Henry thought for a moment. "Only in your imagination," he said."We come here about once every three weeks," their dad told me."We get out loads of books," said Henry. "I like to read them over and over.""It's a really great place," their dad said. I hung on his next words, sure that he might say something meaningful about libraries but he pointed towards the toilets. "Joe needed to go as soon as we got here, even though he'd just been five minutes ago.""Oh, yes," I said, my voice, I hope, only fading a little.Before they left, Henry confided that we were not alone. His imaginary friend Finley was with us too."He drives around in a tractor and likes to pull bins over and so he can eat leftover steak.""Where is he?" I asked."Well, because we're in a library, he is able to change size and make himself very, very small. He is sitting just there now."Henry pointed to the narrow slot in the machine where you place books to check them out."Why is he able to get smaller in the library?""Because all the books here give him powers," Henry said back.
#30days30libraries
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I've done a fair amount of ranting, a huge portion of sighing but now is the time to do something. I'm not really sure if it will help at all ... (that feels like something that I should admit to straightaway)But starting tomorrow, and for the whole month of June, I will be visiting a different library every day.I will be writing about what I see, who I meet and what I learn.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 author.As soon as I thought of doing this which came as most ideas do, at the 4am witching hour, I haven't been able to shake it. Though I'm slightly worried whether I might be able to do it practically, (I am genuinely in awe of people who are as sorted in life to do a weekly pilates class) I am doing it nonetheless.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 scratched, faded Oyster card.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 slightly frazzled human.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 to do list that will be ignored.Like my colleagues in the book world, I am enraged and shocked by the library closures and cuts. I love libraries. I love using them. I love what they stand for. And I can't bear the thought of future generations being denied access to them. So I thought rather than continue to feel enraged, I would celebrate them. I would find out what they are really about, how they are truly being used.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 curious person.I grew up in libraries. My parents worked next door to one and rather than chase fluffy paper clips down under filing cabinets, my sister and I spent most of our school holidays in the library next door. I now live on a boat which means libraries are complete sanctuaries to my family and many of my neighbours. They are a source of not only books and wifi, but power and toilets(!), which are very precious commodities to any boat dweller. As a result of living in a perpetually moving home, I visit a fair few libraries and am owner to a number of well-used library cards. I feel that I have a good feel for who uses libraries and what they get out of them but I've realised that there is still a lack of understanding about what is actually going on in there for a lot of people. This, I want to address.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 shouter-about-it.And as with everything I do, I hope that I will find some good books along the way too.30 days. 30 libraries. 1 reader.I'll be posting here and tweeting when I have battery, and certainly thinking about this a lot over the whole month of June.I would love to visit people's local libraries if anyone would like to share their spaces and stories, and would also be keen to see what's happening in schools. Do get in touch if you would like to make a visit happen and I will do my best to arrange it.30 days. 30 libraries. Countless ways libraries have helped a countless number of people.