The Library

The library was the very first place I was allowed to go to by myself. I would go on a Saturday morning, down the long road with my little sister, return my books and select four new ones. Only four in those days, none of this twenty business and certainly no such thing as an e-book, but the library was such an important place to me then. I was a voracious reader as a child, had read almost everything in the school library, so the public library was a necessary part of my childhood, allowing me to discover Sweet Valley High and Judy Blume and a million other classics in between.

I stopped going in my twenties, work got in the way, days off were for sleeping and housework, if I allowed myself a day off, furthering my career being the be all and end all. I must have read, though what I can’t remember and then when I had a break up, the library became a sanctuary again, time spent selecting books on a Saturday morning, more books then, books that allowed me to believe in love again, albeit love that existed in quaint villages with tea shops and people called Finty.

And now, I take my girls. They have had a library card since they were less than a year old, they have gone from black and white board books to Julia Donaldson, from books with felt and fur to books that explain about dinosaurs and the cycle of the moon. We have now added long books to our story time, half an hour before bed, sacrosanct and done even when they stay with their grandparents. Most of what we read comes from the library, all over the county, helped by J now working for the library service, bringing home book after book that he thinks they might like. We go to the library of my childhood, it is one of our favourites, and there is something special about watching your own children do exactly as you did thirty years before.

This isn’t a political blog, though I am sometimes tempted, but I do feel strongly about libraries and their place in our lives and in our communities. In East Sussex, there is a proposal to close seven, and while there is probably a financial and just reason behind this, it strikes at my heart. The library is a place I can go when I feel overwhelmed by motherhood, when my children are driving me bonkers, when I can’t do soft play again, when I need to breathe. I am absolutely positive that I am not alone in this feeling.

This post was written in Uckfield Library, inspired by perhaps. And now someone is chewing gum at the next table, so I will have to leave. Libraries have their flaws too….