HOW I LOVE LIBRARIES

AND LIBRARIANS TOO, OF COURSE!

So I was supposed to be in Ireland this week, but for volcano reasons, it didn't work out.

Gutted wasn't the word for it.

No, determined not to have my week spoiled may have been the better phrase.

Luckily I ended up having the best and most productive time ever writing in different reference libraries around London. As well as editing a poetry collection, I wanted to find out more about two things - pain and garden extravagance. The two are not necessarily linked!

Monday = The London Library.



Bit of a cheat this one, because I am a member already, but it eased me gently into the week and I planned my schedule. Anyway, this one won on the noise of snoring fellow readers, and magazines I wanted to read. It is, also, the only one I had to pay for.

Tuesday = The Wellcome Library in Euston Road. Brilliant selection of books on every kind of medical matter you might want to look up. Also, fantastic cafe. There was no entry fee, I had to provide identification and a reason for wanting to research but the librarians couldn't have been more helpful, not even blinking when I said I wanted to find out more about pain. A great online resources for images too, including this one of the smallest medical chest ever.



Wednesday = First library fail. The British Library had little, if any, space left even though I am a reader there. The librarians said it was full now by 10.30 am, and it felt crowded and stuffy. Not what I was looking for so I made my way to the RHS Lindley Library in Vincent Square, Pimlico. It was a beautiful day and I sat on the steps for a bit watching small schoolboys play cricket in a pitch in the middle of the square. Sometimes it's hard to believe you are in London. To use this library you have to be a member of the RHS, but if you're interested in plants and gardens or garden history at all, then oh boy, are you in for a treat. Members can borrow books from here too. No cafe.

Thursday = National Art Library in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington. Thanks to twitter for this suggestion, it was possibly the best library to work in ever.



I had no problem getting a library card, in fact the librarians were interested and helpful in what I wanted to look up. I had to order any books I wanted to study on the hour, and they came approximately 45 mins later, but I had brought my own work with me and sitting in the surroundings (above) was positively inspiring. Great cafes in the Museum, good people watching, and best atmosphere. How had I not known about this before? Reference only.

Friday = RIBA Library in Portland Place.



I wasn't sure I was going to be allowed into this one, but in the end it couldn't have been easier or nicer. I was signed in immediately as a day guest - no one asked why I wanted to work there. There were plenty of desks free, and as it happened, my table was exactly near the shelves I wanted to explore - garden buildings and follies. As you might imagine, perfect people watching, and a great, great cafe. Reference only.


Any suggestions for further libraries will be gratefully received, but in the meantime, if you are looking for somewhere different to write and research, my top three were:

a) The Wellcome Library

b) The National Art Library

c) RIBA Library



And I haven't even started exploring the public libraries yet...


ps I didn't do this but wish I had ...

So how do you feel?

Catherine Smith and I had a wonderful day at the Wellcome Collection in London which proved to me - as if I didn't know - that a day away from my desk (and the computer) feeds my writing appetite.

So it was appropriate that the exhibits that struck me particularly were all about our relationship with food. It's hard to miss John Isaac's life-size I CAN'T HELP THE WAY I FEEL:



He says of his figure that he wanted to show how our physical self-image can be a metaphor of the way we're governed by our emotional landscape. It really resonated with me - I've had days when I've felt like the figure above and had a shock to see someone normal looking back at me from the mirror. Also days when I'm so knackered, I feel like a tiny stunted figure too. Interesting to think about how the outside rarely reflects the inside though.

In her piece, EAT 22, Ellie Harrison recorded everything she ate for a whole year:



Not one morsel passed her lips unless she was photographed with it. As well as the book, she'd recorded the images in a non-stop slideshow which felt as if you were hallucinating to watch it. It was like one of those children's flicker books, seeing food being endlessly consumed in a variety of different settings.

And I remember this kind of portion control plate - not that we ever had one, although it brought back horrible memories of sitting in front of really terrible food and having to eat it all up 'because of the starving children'. I could never understand how it helped them, but it still feels wrong to leave food on my plate somehow. Am I the only one?



And just to show how far removed we seem to be from the ability to manage our own hunger and nutritional needs, here are only a few of the diet books on display at the exhibition ...



More pictures of shoes for bound feet, sex aids, and portable false eyes from the Collection coming soon...