*see bottom

It's a rainy day, so what better to do than tackle my pile of ephemera for indexing. I don't know about you other libraries out there, but even in these times of internet, cloud storage, and electronic wizardry, we still have a card index, and it still gets used. It seems to be an anachronism amongst all the computer hardware we have, but we rather cherish it. Recently we had to clear it out, and amongst some of the cards removed were references to a home for unmarried mothers, complete with telephone number of local vicar. Also, a cross reference to pictures of rabbit warrens, for no discernable reason. Also, the meaning of the surname Sotherton. Also, the address of the Race Relations board. I fondly imagine a post-internet world where the true value of these cards will once again be felt.
They are also a record of librarians gone by - some cards quite wordy, and carefully cross-referenced, others terse and brief to the point of enigmatic (Smith - see Wetherby). They are always done with an eye to posterity - what will researchers of the future want to read about?
The powers-that-be were looking to rearrange the library recently, and were eyeing the card index as taking up too much space, but we hung onto it for now, so until some kind person has the time and the inclination to digitize all the cards (any takers?) then it will remain as a useful but slightly outmoded tool in the librarians' armoury.

*the title of this post is "Indexing" - see above for details.

Would you like a book with that?

I was pleased to read that library lending figures have gone up ever so slightly over the last year - if you had asked for my prediction, I would have said that they had gone down, so I am glad (for once) to be wrong. It is however only a tiny increase, so we need to make sure that we are pushing our product, adding value, as they say in the shops, it is a dog eat dog world out there...ok but you get my drift. It used to be very clear what libraries did, and what you could get here. Not so these days - someone came in just the other day and asked where the library was. He seemed surprised to be told he was standing in it. I don't know what he had in mind, but we weren't it (perhaps it's the lack of mahogany shelves and leather chairs). I am all for getting people through the doors by whatever means, and although I profess to be a little dubious about Wii sessions or nail painting, I will try anything once - but we need to make sure that some of the people who have no intention of borrowing a book when they come in, find themselves leaving as proud card carrying library members with a book on manicures to complement the nail art session they just attended.
I am wary of turning us into another high street menace - I really don't want half price chocolate (well actually I do, but that's beside the point) and I don't want people who come to the counter, possibly for the first time in many years, to run howling from the building after being forced to borrow the latest literary bestseller, when all they came in for was a disabled parking badge.
But there is stuff we can do - make it look good: get those shiny paperbacks out front, be enthusiastic, if you have read something good shout about it. Engage!
Now troops, back to your posts, and lend some books!
Any good tips please let me know.

Reading literature in the library

I was looking at some new titles recently on a certain well known book website, and was fascinated by the plethora of titles such as "Reading Lolita in Tehran" and "Talking about Jane Austen in Baghdad" to name but two. Many missionary book lovers seem to be eager to fly to various war zones or similarly troubled areas with nothing but "Sense and Sensibility" and a smattering of the local lingo to see them through. And good for them - the more people who read the better, and good literature should reach across all boundaries.
I can't help but wonder, however, if we are neglecting our own readers at home as we evangelise our literature abroad. As an experiment I looked through our classics section - we have two copies of "Pride and Prejudice" neither of which has been out for six months. "Middlemarch" hasn't been out for over a year. The only Thomas Hardy to be issued recently was the one on the telly. Same goes for Dickens. Some of the older staff here reminisce fondly about a full set of Proust that is now hidden away in a stack somewhere. Our Forsters are tatty and our Brontes are battered. It seems a shame that just as readers in Afghanistan embrace our Emily, we are forgetting about her altogether.
I also despair when students come in for either the new-fangled graphic versions of various classics and set texts, or failing that the York notes. The graphic ones have about a quarter of the text, and are beefed up with gangland style pictures of hard looking youths and mean looking grown ups with a sexy Juliet and a languishing Romeo, in the case of Shakespeare. York notes have their place - I was a student after all, but students these days seem to order them instead of the text itself.
So next time your literary feet start to itch, how about Brontes in Birmingham, Proust in Pontefract, or Austen in Ambleside. You don't need to cross oceans to promote good writing.

Shld we worry about txt spk?

OK, so, I'm an old-fashioned girl. I learned parrot fashion at school. I did my times tables, and learned to spell the proper way, and I still try to do so. I have embraced my mobile phone, but I still message in proper sentences. I send emails, yes, but I write them just as I would a letter. I have yet to employ btw, or lol, or cul8r. It is just...wrong. But, I am old, and I accept that the younger generation need to find new methods for the new technologies they grow up with. I speak from a library that now has a "chill" area (no, not a fridge) and a "teenscape" (no, me neither). If it gets people through the door, then fine.
I did despair this week, however, when we received our leaflets from headquarters for our events for Adult Learners' Week. We apparently now offer "careers advise." Apostrophes are scattered seemingly at random. Events include nail art and Nintendo Wii. I'm all for doing whatever we can to get people using our services, but offering to paint nails or play games twice a year is not the way to do it, surely. And should we not be the last bastion of plain, correctly spelled English? By all means play fast and loose with the language on the move or at play, but does there not have to be a benchmark, a standard, a universality?
Tsk and tut, say the critics, surely understanding is what matters - my leaflet, after all, is not going to cause major confusion, and advisers will offer advice, however it is spelled, but I still can't help thinking that we are libraries, and language and communication is at the heart of what we do. Should we not, at least, try to do it properly?
Please tell me I am not a lone voice on this.

Eaten by the Easter bunny?

Holiday time, and all the people who never ever come in at any other time of the year suddenly appear, wanting to a)rejoin themselves, their children, and grandma too; b)have free stuff, be it colouring sheets, an hour on the computer, childcare, or pipe cleaners; c)register for activities - anything, but anything, to get rid of the kids for an hour. We were booked solid for over a fortnight by our more regular families who come to every event going, so we have to turn them away. Where are they all for the rest of the year, I ask myself?
And why does everyone else also appear in the hols too? We have a strange post Christmas slump, then suddenly, as if awakening from a long hibernation, people come in to find things out, harrass the MP or the councillor, and look up that person that Great Aunt Elsie said was a long lost cousin.
And now they have gone again. I would like to think that they are out lobbying their MP about the library, or at home feverishly reading all the books they borrowed last time they were in. And it is exam time, and I've a new rack of up to date revision guides, but no, they are not here. Just got Avatar on DVD. Any takers? Ok, the sun has shone for the last few days, and it is kind of hot and stuffy in here (air-con man if you are reading, come on over!) but surely someone wants a travel guide, music to play at that barbie, information on volcanos.
No? I can only conclude they have all been eaten by the Easter bunny.
Are you quiet too?

Beg, steal, borrow, buy?

I've been looking at the lending and buying figures for the last decade, published by the Public Lending Right people, and some very interesting things emerge. First and foremost I was pleasantly surprised to learn that more books were borrowed than bought, despite all the 3 for 2's and loss leaders in the supermarkets. Also, the authors borrowed were very different from the authors bought - JK Rowling sold easily the most books, but was only 96th in the borrowing lists. Yet another children's writer, Jacqueline Wilson, was high up in both charts. What makes a book buyable or borrowable?
The bestlending list is split between "traditional" authors such as Catherine Cookson, and writing for children such as Goosebumps and Mick Inkpen. Does this mean that we get little old ladies and kids and nothing in between?
The lending figures also reveal a population who cheat at cookery (with the help of Delia) write poetry (with the aid of Stephen Fry), holiday in France, and read about war, atheism and cricket. The buying figures, on the other hand, show a liking for Grail quests, vampires, cup cakes, reality TV, and the Caribbean. This would seem to suggest that two completely different sets of people buy and borrow books, but this a clearly not the case - a book lover is a book lover, and will get their fix wherever they can, and indeed will often donate books after they have read them (thank you, thank you, thank you).
So why borrow Delia but buy Jamie?
Why buy Terry Pratchett but borrow James Patterson?
Why borrow war books, but buy Jade Goody?
I have no answers, but will be eyeing my borrowers keenly to see what they have in their shopping bags.

Election escape

I have been following the election with a certain amount of interest, despite the ringing silence about the future of libraries from most of the main parties (if you have heard anything of any value from any politician please let me know). Yet it does strike me that the library is one of the few places you can go that is an election free zone - yes, we have a poster up telling you about the election, in the window, but it is small, albeit pink, and easily avoided. We have newspapers, and we have the internet if you seek them out, but there will be no-one haranguing you or asking you your voting intentions - a very real hazard in some towns and cities at the moment. Even the councillors, who usually hold surgeries in our library, have departed for a month to hit the campaign trail, so we are truly apolitical.
Unless you count the local blokes who sit in the library setting the world to rights very loudly before heading off to the pub in the afternoon, of course. I did suggest that if we installed a barrel of ale under the counter they would stay all day, thereby improving our visitor numbers, but this idea was not taken up. Beer and a book - it's a winner surely? I'd vote for it anyway. Caffeine addicts can get their fix in many a library these days, so why not cider lovers and ale drinkers too. Maybe I should stand for parliament on a libraries and lager ticket....although of course Dorothea never has anything more than a small sherry....

Rock and roll!

So, along with Casanova and Chairman Mao, Keith Richards has been outed as....a librarian! I was somewhat amused by the coverage - the public are quite prepared for any sort of sexual or social deviance from Mr Richards, but to find that he yearns for nothing better than stroking the spines of his Dewey-ordered books seemed to shock people to the core. I mean, libraries, not exactly rock and roll, is it?
But delve a little deeper, and you will find all sorts going on - for a start, we still seem to nurture the image of a librarian as at the very least, buttoned up. Now your very own Dorothea may have a starched cardigan and (occasionally) a bun (of the hairy variety)(and the cream variety) but she also has a twinkle in her eye, and a certain tolerance born of a long life experience which may have involved loud music and the odd illicit substance. Librarians are graduates, after all, from the school of life if nothing else, and have done all the stuff that people do at university - they even took their clothes off sometimes!
Also, books are still just not cool, somehow. Not once you get past the Hungry Caterpillar anyway. Kid reading equals boring. Bookish is still a playground insult, and even some parents, pleased though they are that little Joshua has a very good grasp of grammar and English, would rather he got out a bit more. I hope that the outing of Keith Richards can change this once and for all - what better after a night on the town than half an hour of calming prose before retiring to bed? Books fit into any lifestyle, even that of a rock and roll god.
And no, most librarians are not spinsters, nor are they waiting for someone to remove their glasses and show them just how gorgeous they are (although Keith, if you are reading, I could use a holiday if you feel like whisking me off somewhere...). Libraries and books are not a substitute for life - they are life itself! Get down to your local library and live a little! And, librarians, if you should roll into work after a heavy night, and feel like a snooze in the stacks, you are just carrying on a fine tradition of loose living librarians!

Festival time!

It is, believe it or not, springtime, and throughout the land literary festivals are sprouting up like so many daffodils. There are the biggies, Hay-on-Wye, Cambridge, and the little ones in every town from Dorking to Dorchester. The question is, what should the library do? At best they host as much as they can, sell tickets and be a general guide book to the whole thing. At worst, they are the ugly bridesmaid at Cinderella's wedding - based in a shabby building, not allowed to sell tickets, and giving away shiny brochures for glamorous events a world away from the dingy shelves and thumb worn books on display. And we are not known for selling books (yet) and those lending right fees pale in comparison with the big queue of eager people waiting to pay full whack for the latest hardback after a successful event.
But - when the authors have packed up and gone home, and the publicity posters are out of date, the library is once more the last bastion of literary culture in many towns, so enjoy the glitz and the glamour, smug in the knowledge that when they have all disappeared, you will still be there lending those books out and discussing them with your borrowers.
Don't have a festival? Start one! Surely you have a local author around who likes the sound of his/her own voice, or a town lad made good?
Who have you had in your town recently?

Bookman's holiday

So, I admit it. Had five days off and ended up visiting another library while I was on holiday. Just can't resist. It's partly out of sheer curiosity - do they wear a uniform? Is it busy? And partly out of a professional interest. I'm not above pinching ideas either - saw a great noticeboard which I intend to copy. There is also a certain amount of comparison to be done - our shelves are nicer/displays better/staff friendlier/books scruffier/carpet messier than yours.
I also like listening to the people they get in and the queries they deal with - I've been to libraries from Stratford to Scarborough, and although you would think there was a vast difference between the big city library and the tourist town, some things are universal. There is usually someone asking for directions to somewhere. There is generally a tramp or several reading a newspaper. Someone gazing at the photocopier in bewilderment. Ah yes, I think, this is familiar.
The technology is intriguing too - I am increasingly seeing self-service terminals springing up, and internet access in various forms (do they charge or is it free?) and wi-fi and hot spots and audio-posts....
What would you pinch and what would you dump from your library? Envious or proud? Jealous or self-satisfied? Or do you never look?

Blowing the budget!

Well despite the doom and gloom about budget cuts, I had a rare treat yesterday when I got to spend the last of the book fund for this year. We tootled off to our favourite warehouse and grabbed our trolleys, and filled them with shiny new paperbacks ready for our borrowers - it is always a double edged pleasure for a librarian - on the one hand lovely new books, and those issue figures climbing higher as we actually have something people want to read. On the other hand, imagining those books in six months time, slightly grubby and curled, with unnamed stains on page 304, and the corners occasionally turned down. A plea from librarians everywhere - use a bookmark!
I've not been on a buy for a while, and it is interesting to see the changing fashions - lots of manga, lots of vampires, not so many classics, no Wodehouse at all. I was armed with a list of borrower requests which we had not fulfilled and gaps to plug - everything from John Sandford to the latest Jasper Fforde, and some oddities too, 1970's crime novels and Barbara Cartland. I couldn't find the latter. Thankfully.
Still, I shall look forward to my next few deliveries, and seeing my newly bought books fly off the shelves as they always do, and this year I will wonder whether the sight is ever to be repeated, and if my purse is to be sewn shut forever.

Burning questions

So the blood is still drying on the pre-election broadcast contracts, and somewhere deep in Westminster Gordon Brown is limbering up for those curved-ball questions from whichever heavyweight broadcaster happens to be in the hot seat. I wonder if anyone will ask about libraries?
The announcements of probable cuts to the library service last week raised barely a murmur outside of library land, and in a rather depressing interview for the Guardian, Margaret Hodge trotted out the usual stuff about modernisation, Tescoisation, and Starbucks invasion. And she wants volunteers to staff libraries. Is that because they are cheaper than properly trained staff?
There seem to be a few flagship libraries springing up - Newcastle, and the proposed new Birmingham library, but what of the beleaguered branch libraries? We need a plan and we need one soon. More people visit libraries each week than go to football matches or visit the cinema - I think there would be more of an outcry if we were to shut the gates at all the grounds on a Saturday afternoon.
What would you ask the prospective Prime Minister if you could?

The first cut is the deepest

Not a good morning for those library workers/users who happened to tune into the Beeb first thing. CUTS! Libraries and leisure are the first in line for the chop - I half wondered if the padlocks would be out when I got to work, and a closed sign on the door.
Yes, OK, can't cut health, can't cut schools, got to have rubbish collected. But where do people go for information on that tricky health condition (I've been shown a few rashes in my time!), where do kids go to do their homework, who do you complain to when your bin hasn't been collected - the library!
Salami tactics they call it - slice a bit off at a time, and no one will notice. I read of one library service that won't be buying any books this year. At all. Another authority suggest that the public can use self service libraries, and just have volunteers to tidy the place up a bit. Self service! Have you ever had good food from a vending machine? It's just chocolate, pop, cheap sugar thrills. Have you ever got through one of those supermarket auto tills without being scolded electronically or beeped at at least once? If we are not careful we will be left with the library equivalent of zero nutrition, zero humanity.
Run down the service, then no-one will use it, then you have a perfect excuse to close it down.
But, you don't know what you got til it's gone, like the gal said. Let's be sure we don't all wake up one morning and realise that we are in a post library era.

Do It Yourself

Now the electioneering has started in earnest, there is much debate about who should run what, and who should pay whom to run what. One of the more interesting ideas was that public services should be run by the staff themselves, with less centralisation, and thus a more local service provision.
My eyes immediately lit up! I always had a sneaking fancy to be my own boss - a librarian running a library no less! I could order my own stock, my own shelves, my own signage. I wouldn't be "branded" (the painful process whereby the council or governing body for which you work dictate what colour you have to look at all day. George Orwell had nothing, nothing, let me tell you, on some council colour schemes I have seen dreamt up for the purposes of subduing staff. Purple and pink walls anybody? Headache?). I could serve the town where I work instead of the council twenty miles away. I could open when I wanted, and remove books of which I disapproved. "Da Vinci Code? No sorry." I could finally tell the smelly bloke in the corner where to go. The possibilities are endless.
On the other hand - the library might end up being run by a collective of local townsfolk who, whilst well meaning, cannot agree on anything, except that it is a Very Good Thing that they are running the library, and won't things be better, just as soon as they vote on what sort of biscuits to have at meetings and who is to be the treasurer.
So it's an interesting idea. All I know is that someone needs to get a grip. And soon.
What would you do if you could?

The cost/value continuum. Or something.

Well, in common with many public servants, it is now the turn of us library staff to have a review of our usefulness to society, and the value of of our work. And in common with quantum mechanics, this process is so complex and impenetrable that you need a degree in micro physics to work it out.
The local council has been doing its job evaluation for what seems like months, and finally last week we all received a telephone directory sized letter containing our new salary, plus an explanation of how they decided what we should be paid. Professional skills count for nought, with some of our qualified CILIP registered librarians being downgraded. Random groups of staff seem to have been awarded extra pay for duties they do once a blue moon on a Tuesday, which the rest of us are capable of, but don't do regularly. And how do you compare a library which has just two staff, with a large branch library which has local studies specialists and a children's department running activities all year round? All this against a background of a questioning of library services in general - what are we for, who are we for, and who should pay for it, and how much?
Perhaps we should have an X Factor style council vote - give each council service a month or so to prove its worth, appoint a panel of sneering local dignitaries to pass comment, and then let the public vote where their money goes.
"My name is Dorothea, and tonight I'm going to be a slightly aging but vigorous building that has seen better days, containing all the world's knowledge, several tramps, the phone number you will need if the pavement outside your house needs seeing to, a baby morning, illicit sexual thrills (if you know where to look), several hundred years worth of local information, last months newspapers (though unfortunately some with offer coupons missing), and the award the town got in 2006 for best floral display that the council didn't know what to do with."
OR "My name is Egbert, and tonight I am the Pathfinder Project Coordinator for your town. I do flowcharts, and spreadsheets, and PowerPoint presentations, sometimes with a laser pointer for added effect. Last year I came top for cost savings in the quasi local quango sector...hello? Anybody listening?"
It's a no-brainer, surely?

Odd jobs

Well finally finished my chemotherapy, and am making a vague attempt at contemplating a return to library work at some point. Having gone through the treatment, it does make it harder to take the, shall we say, trivial enquiries we get each day. As a way of returning on light duties, I did think I might try to take on some of the odder queries. For instance a lady telephoned the other day and asked when she could make an appointment to have her antiques valued. I did think that instead of explaining kindly that we didn't actually do that sort of thing and it was two years since the Antiques Roadshow had rolled in to town, I would set myself up with a green baize table and a Millers Antiques Guide. Can't be wrestling with tallboys though. Small items only.
I could also tackle some of those accumulated heaps of unidentified stuff that seem to hang around. I know all workplaces have them, but a library seems to attract a very special sort of detritus. For instance mystery account books with a balance in old money that no-one knows where to file. A plaque commemorating a forgotten anniversary, now slightly chipped in one corner. The planning documents for a building that was never actually built. A Heath Robinson style contraption with a slot at one end and a piece of wood at the other, which no-one now remembers the purpose of, but Doreen who used to work here and still comes in on Friday teatime might know something about.
Have you got anything odd in your library?

Guilty secrets

Was saddened to hear of the death of JD Salinger - his "Catcher in the Rye" has long been a staple book among young people and students especially. They generally come in on a Friday tea time to borrow the book so they can read it and hand that long overdue essay in on the following Monday morning, and then bring the book back complete with notes in the margins. We also had the odd earnest teenager who would request it and then renew it endlessly, and who always hated giving it up to another student. (I won't mention the one or two who borrow the York notes instead of the text itself. I frown at them!)
I have to confess to a slight sense of guilt here, for I have not read it. I'm sure every reader has one or two of these up their sleeves - books you think you should read but inexplicably haven't. Anyone with a love of reading has that list of stuff they should read, and "Catcher in the Rye" is on mine. Along with "Ulysses" and "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" and anything by Trollope (Anthony, not Joanna), and "Moby Dick"........ and so on and so on. There is a certain amount of snobbery about the so called canon - the books that anyone who claims a love of books should read. But should there be any should about reading - surely it's about enjoyment? If you don't like Jane Austen, well you don't. I don't like caviar, so I don't feel obliged to eat it just because it's expensive and highly thought of.
And yet, and yet....as a librarian I have to admit that I get a certain amount of pleasure when a child asks for "Treasure Island" or "Huck Finn" instead of the latest sub-Potter fantasy book. Or when a teenage girl who you expect to ask for Manga asks for Charlotte Bronte instead.
I'm also at the age when it seems an awfully long time since I read certain things, and some things are surely better a second time around, but how to find the time to re-read, when my to-read heap of books is tottering out of control?
It's about taste, time, inclination, a certain amount of trying stuff out, and the occasional rich indulgence (mine is Georgette Heyer). Bit like eating really. Books are food for the mind, after all.
What is your guilty secret or special pleasure?

Lizards in the library (with apologies to Lucy Daniels)

"It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!" shouted Mr Borrower from the reference department. Ann looked around, and saw that a child had left a toy animal on the floor. It looked like a crocodile, and was lying under the bookshelves.
"No, Mr Borrower, it's just a toy" said Ann kindly. Mr Borrower was always quite excitable. Ann went over and bent down to pick up the toy. And then it blinked.
Ann jumped and gave a little shriek. Mr Borrower said "It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!"
Ann thought fast, and grabbed an empty box, and put it near the creature, which ran in gratefully.
Luckily for Ann, she knew someone who worked at the vets, so she took the box and showed them.
"That is a bearded dragon" said Mr Harris the vet. "It won't bite you, it's just a baby." It looked like a big baby to Ann, but she thought that maybe someone had it as a pet, and it had got out somehow, and come to the library to keep warm. When she told Dave the caretaker, he thought it was a joke.
Dave came in the following morning, and was putting up some shelves. All of a sudden he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked around, he saw a lizard on the floor. Mr Borrower wasn't there, but if he had been, he would have said "It's a crocodile! It's a crocodile!"
But Dave knew it wasn't a crocodile - he picked it up gently, and took it to the vet, to be reunited with its friend. They will stay with the vet until someone comes to find them, or the vet can find them a new home - a library is no place for a lizard.
But now, when anyone comes into the library, they always look down to see if there are any lizards on the floor.

The first in an occasional series of stories - do you have a library animal story? Squirrels in the Stack? Rabbits in the Reference Library? Lions in lending? Chameleons in the Community Room? Iguanas and Index Cards?
Please let me know.

Snow business like library business...

So the carpet is a disgrace I agree - mud, snow, and grit do not mix well with 80's issue carpet tiles. And yet we are open, and have remained so throughout the bad weather, despite being regarded as "non-essential." Depends who you ask on that score. We do not, granted, supply food or fuel, yet the woman who staggered in on a snowy Wednesday afternoon and spent a grateful half hour in the (relative) warm of the library, choosing books for bed, was awfully pleased we were open. Several people seemed to not realise it was snowing at all, and were startled at the suggestion that we may close early because of a lack of public transport. My local high street bank, which shall remain nameless, but did receive a hefty wad of taxpayers money recently, were shut this morning because of the weather, and when I saw the staff stood outside, I was told that "they need a cup of tea before we open." Hmm. Public money, public responsibility.
So it hasn't been easy, and I'm sorry, Mrs Snodgrass, I don't know when the binmen will collect your recycling, but we are open as usual.

Reviewing the situation

Managed to crawl into work through the ice and snow, and a fog of post-chemo tiredness, to make sure I still have a job and to check my emails, and it seems that as well as all the invites to xmas dinners and parties, and the news that the fax machine at such and such a library was out of order on the 18th of December, I have also had several emails about "the future of the library service." "My views" are wanted!
Scary stuff - apparently this is part of a national review of library services, to "empower, enrich, and inform." So, what are libraries for, and who are they for, and how do we make sure they do what they are supposed to do? Big stuff for a little old librarian to deal with. And yet I do believe we make a difference, and can continue to do so.
So, library folk everywhere - make your voices heard. Talk to your bosses. Email Margaret Hodge at libraryreview@culture.gsi.gov.uk , and speak to your borrowers/members/customers to see what they think. Leave a message on this blog and join the debate.
Shout now or don't complain when they bulldoze your library!

Christmas chemo

Sorry folks - no post for a month and here's why. Chemotherapy. I am being steadily poisoned in the name of good health, and I've barely been able to lift my head off the pillow, let alone wave my fingers across a keyboard. Christmas and New Year in hospital, a lonely cracker and a drip for company...yeah ok, I'm laying it on a bit thick. I have had one or two visitors - even librarians have friends you know. But oh, those lonely hours on the ward. Still trying to find suitable reading matter - am two volumes into Proust. Seems appropriate reading for a hospital, as it was written by a famous hypochondriac obsessed with his bed, although the library copies I have got hold of came blinking into the light as if they had not been read for a very long time indeed! I have got some audio books but I keep falling asleep and struggling to find my place again - some readers have very soporific voices.
So - any recommendations for sickbed reading most welcome.
I would also love to hear from hospital librarians, and hospital information centres - big shout to the Robert Ogden Centre at St James's Leeds.
Please get in touch and I will post when I can.