I like books. I love books. Mainly reference material but some fiction. And I’m also terrified of large bookshops. Why? Because I can go in to and come out with far less money than I went in with. Books are horribly expensive at prominent retailers. £12.99 for a paperback non-fiction with about 100 pages is astronomical.

Thank heavens the library exists. The books may be old, dog-eared and have stains on their pages, but we don’t have to buy them to read them! What a wonderful idea.

Or not, if your day off is a Monday. For if it is and you try to venture into a library, you’ll hit a glass force field. Then it’ll suddenly come back to you. They don’t open on Monday’s! There is an automatic book returning thing on the wall but if you’ve not got your library card, you’re stuck. I did forget mine, so what could I do? Nothing. I had to hold my books for return until I could obtain a bag.

I do have a huge problem with libraries in that I like to keep my books, and not have the pleasure of reading them for only three weeks. A book collection is not a book collection if the book collection is not yours. I can never remember when three weeks are up anyway, so those reminder slips start coming through. I react, for I don’t like being sent slips of paper telling me what to do (note: prospective MPs). I go down to the library, and hit the force field of randomness. Why, oh why do they close on a Monday? They open on Sunday’s damn it! Please let me know if you are privy to the library opening times board.

So what to do? I can either get my books from the library free of charge, and then bemoan their return. Or I can buy my books at pricey prices but celebrate their permanence. I think I’ll stick with the latter. But take a friend with me so they can control my bookishness.

XVII © MMX