Libraries I have known: Two and Three

Two: Newport Pagnell Public Library*



There were two small public libraries near my house, but for some reason, we only visited the one in Newport Pagnell (we went to Olney for the market on Thursdays and to Bedford to get our hair cut).

We would go to Newport Library on Saturdays mostly - the only books I remember getting out were Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas and Willy the Wimp by Anthony Browne. Newport Library had a very colourful children's section and I was proud of my very own library card. My only other memory of the library was that I always wanted to get out books that were far too young for me. I had my own copy of The Owl who was Afraid of the Dark, and read it over and over.

  
 

Three: Austin Public Library, Old Quarry Branch



We spent some time in Texas when I was nine, with my dad's work. While there we would head to the Austin Public Library every Monday evening, before going for ice cream at the local mall. I have no recollection of what we read or borrowed, but for some reason the library is the one I imagine when I read Roald Dhal's Matilda. Perhaps I read that there, or perhaps I felt as small as Matilda in that giant building. While we lived in Austin I read The Wombles and Ramona The Brave. At school, I had to do a book review of The Lemonade Trick. I didn't manage to finish the book, being a very slow reader, but I managed to do a drawing for the front of the review. 

  

*More recently I have borrowed CDs, DVDs and audio books from Newport Pagnell Library and given a reading there.

Libraries I have known - One

MK mobile library - bouncy floor, looking up at the counter

I recently visited Gladstone's Library (formerly St. Deiniols) in Hawarden - while I was there I was reminded of many other libraries that I have utilised. There are more than I thought:

One - The Milton Keynes Mobile Library. 

The library would stop outside my school and we would all go out to choose a book. The floor was bouncy and there was a small window at one end that we went to to take out books. I don't remember any specific books that I borrowed, just that I was into FuzzBuzz at the time.*

My impression of this library at the time was that it was great. Probably more for the novelty than for the books. I liked springing on the floor and I liked that it was a bus with books in it - so convenient.

*SHOCKER: I've just found out via Wikipedia that FuzzBuzz books were 'for school age children who may be experiencing problems with reading.' I suppose it's fair enough that they didn't tell me at the time that I was in the 'remedial' group - I thought everyone read FuzzBuzz. 

The start of something longer

The start of something is often scary and exciting. This one is weighing heavily on the scary side at the moment: I've said I'll write a short novel.

Three big things to be nervous about :

• Research - will it be thorough enough? How will I do it?

• Quantity of words - 2-3000 has so far been my limit. This will be significantly longer.

• Quality of words - what if it's rubbish?

A sketch about an artist.

I haven't posted any fiction on here before, but this sketch came to mind recently. I wrote it a few years ago as part of a series inspired by the paintings of Edward Hopper. 

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Highland Light, North Truro

Inspired by Edward Hopper's painting of the same name



   Wanna hear about the light? A man calls out of the lighthouse window. You interested in lighthouses?

   The painter looks up. Well…he says.

   I know a lot about the light, the man shouts. I’ve been here fifteen years. Seen a lot of action – this has. He pats the window frame.

   Sure, says the painter. He is looking back down at his canvas. I bet.

   So you’re painting the lighthouse? The man leans out of the window. Paint many of ‘em? The man’s face is reddening as he bends over the sill.

   Yes. The painter doesn’t look up.

   Make any money out of it?

   Excuse me? He looks up.

   You make much? The man holds out his hand and rubs his fingers and thumb together.

   The painter blinks. Some, he says.

   My sister paints some. The man leans out a little too far and topples back again. Mind if I take a look?

  In a moment the red-faced man is limping towards the painter, re-adjusting his shirt-sleeves so they’re firmly above his elbows.

   Did you go to classes? yells the man. Like an evening class or something? He peers over the top of the canvas.

   The painter opens his mouth and then closes it.

   My sister also does ceramics. Do you do ceramics? He looks into the painters face. You know, pots?

   The painter shakes his head.

   It’s all with the hands, isn’t it? Painting, pottery…

   The man puts his hands on his hips and looks over the painters head and into the ocean. Quiet, he says.

   Yes, says the painter. He looks over his shoulder at the gentle waves. Fifteen years? No vacation?

   Who needs it? I’d stay here forever if they’d let me. The man nods slowly and crosses his arms. You like to travel, huh? Like to see new places?

   A little. I like the Cape. The painter looks down at his redundant brush and crosses his arms in front of him. Hmm, is it getting cold? he says.

   I dunno, says the red-faced man. He looks around him.

   The painter looks down at the box he keeps his painting things in and shuffles on his stool.

   Feel the cold, huh? The man peers at the painter. You need a heavier jacket.

   Yeah, maybe. Well, I’m done for today. I think I have enough.

   Really? The man peers down at the canvas with his hands in his pockets. Sure, ok.

   Well, I have to call my wife in half an hour from the drugstore. The painter shakes his sleeve and looks at his wristwatch.

   Fred, says the man. He holds out his hand.

   The painter shakes it and gets up to leave.

Book Group Reading

I've never been to a book group or book club before, but I heard they were everywhere and I thought one would make a good and captive audience for a reading. A few weeks ago I left my contact details at my local libraries for them to pass on to book groups. The following week I had two phone calls from two separate groups.

This morning, then, I read my story, Good Condolences, to a book group that meets at Newport Pagnell library. It was a very enjoyable experience for me and they said, for them too.

When I'd finished reading, people asked me questions and talked about the characters in my story as if they were real people. I suppose they are now. I've made something that sort-of breathes for itself. Creation is fun - creation with a small 'c,' but we all know, as Peter Parker's Aunt May says, 'with great power comes great responsibility' (Spider-Man).

People in the group shared their stories - their personal stories - and I felt nothing but privilege and gratitude. It was magic.

I'm reading to a different book group in a couple of weeks, I wonder if they will enjoy the story as much - I hope so!

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I have had a busy week so I forced myself to go for walks. It's pretty lush outside at the moment...

Good Condolences - more copies available!

A couple of people asked me at Greenbelt if I had any more of 'the green ones' (Good Condolences) and I didn't. But I have just finished a fresh batch and they're available on etsy or if you don't do etsy, or can't afford £6.50, send me an email or do a comment below and we'll discuss delivery. 

If you want more info about this chapbook, look at an earlier blog post. 

Start 'em young...

The young artist who helped to illustrate Map is my cousin Millie. 

Amelia Grace Kay spots her handy-work.

The middle pages of Map include a fold-out section which made for a nice effect, but a more fiddly process - here's a preview - the 'map' of the title : 

Middle pages of Map

Finished Article