I used to read a lot when I was younger, and I spend a lot of time in libraries. They were my favourite places to be and I even thought about becoming a librarian. Then life happened, I didn’t read as much anymore or read only to study, and my library visits became rare. There have been periods of more frequent attendance, but mostly I just go if I need something, not to pass the time.
I didn’t know what to do today. I have books to read (bookshops have, to some extent, replaced libraries in my life, although it’s not the same), and I wanted to get out of the flat. And then the thought occurred to me: a library. There just might be a library open on Saturdays somewhere. And behold, there was, and I went. And I sat for an hour and a half reading magazines and then took out two interesting books and a film, oh and a vegan cookbook too, and reminded myself to go a gain soon. It used to be routine: borrow books, read them (or not, in which case extend the loan period), take them back and get new ones. Sometimes music, maybe a film, read the papers. For free, which really is a luxury.
And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and read a book.