I love my job.
I once mocked a certain blogger for being all into his charts and his admin, but well, I love all the little processes and routines involved in running a library. The book rotations, reservation picking, pc booking, new user registrations. I even like cleaning the coffee machine and putting it all back together again.
But I suppose it’s the buzz of being back in work. Being useful. Being part of someone else’s day other than just my own.
I love the older generation who come in weekly to warm their memories with old favourites and fuel their imaginations with new. They reminisce about their 40 years of visiting the library and we talk of how the three steps down to the adult section used to be dark and wooden. I can still remember the sound of my small feet as I wandered down into that mysterious world of the grown-up, where somewhere my Mum would be clutching a pile of books, enjoying a moment of escape while her four children played.
I love the harassed parents and grandparents who visit with their sticky-fingered offspring and encourage their youngsters to pick out The Far Away Tree, George’s Marvellous Medicine and The Worst Witch, as well as Harry Potter, Horrid Henry and Captain Underpants.
And I love that it’s mainly a happy place. Somewhere to choose something just for yourself. A little slice of escape. A chunk of pleasure. Pages bound and shelved and waiting. It’s good to be a tiny part of that. Really really good.