Conversations in a library

At the back of the small town regional library housed in a 1980’s single story building next to medical centre was the reference and reading section.  The shelves ran in straight lines and housed various books on local history, parish records and phone books.  The furniture was basic and consisted of hard looking square tables harbouring chairs that were iconic designs when they were first made but now carried thee air of a previous century without the air of antiquity.

I settled at a table that I was going to share with a glasses wearing, fountain pen wielding man writing copious notes on a foolscap pad of paper.  He shall be referred to ‘fountain pen man’.  My impression of him was that he was an academic preparing some learned notes on an esoteric subject that was going to be presented to his academic piers and might even change the world.  It is a shame that I did not prepare for the disappointment that was to follow.

Before opening my case to get my papers out I looked at a local paper someone had left on the table.  I cannot remember what its headlines were or what any of the stories inside were covering.  I do know that in another section of the library there were two men had just arrived and had copies of the national dailies.  They sat down and frantically rattled through the pages bypassing stories on Ebola, the economy, immigration and the conflicts in the Middle East as they headed towards the sports sections. 

The previous evening Chelsea had been held to a one one draw against Liverpool in the Premiership.  Liverpool were the underdogs and surprised everyone with their resilience against the Premiership leaders.

The two men had a semi hushed conversation about which player was rubbish and which one was good.  The men carried out an enthusiastic and forensic post match analysis relying only on their memories and the articles they were both reading.  Every kick, every pass and penalty was taken apart as critically as an air accident investigator piecing together the last moments of a crashed airplane.

They were passionate about their subject and when they had finished their analysis they put their respective newspapers back on the rack and left.  Silence reined.

I then reached down to open my case which was secured with Velcro straps.  The ripping sound cracked the now monastic quiet of the library like a fusillade of machine gun bullets.  Fountain pen man gave me the hardest Paddington Bear stare I have witnessed and exclaimed an unspoken ‘Shusshhhhh’. I tried to undo the Velcro quietly but the harder I tried the louder it seemed so instead of little rips and crackles I gave both straps one huge tug to release them.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Thank goodness it was on vibrate and not ring as fountain pen man would probably have swooped down on me predator like and disembowelled me with one severe swish of his fountain pen. I saw the call was not important and settled down to work.

I was concentrating so hard that I did not notice fountain pen man move.  When I did lift my head from my books I could see he had moved over to another table and was sitting with a lady. This might be his personal assistant who is going to type up his Nobel Peace Prize thesis.

I went back to my books and in the background I could hear a soft lilting Welsh accent.  It was emanating from fountain pen man.  Either his volume rose or my hearing was able to focus on what he was saying.  He was not a learned professor, he was some type of adviser counselling the lady as to how she respond to questions during what sounded like an employment tribunal.  It was not me just earwigging their conversation, there was no escape from it throughout the whole of the library and other people were beginning to show signs of impatience.

Then, oh what deep deep joy! His mobile phone rang.  Not just a subtle tone but the default jungle drums at full volume.  Instead of switching the phone off as it was ringing it he answered it with ‘I am in a library and will have to call you back’.  It was then he was approached by a librarian who finally did tell him that he was in a library and not in an office.

‘Thank you for reminding me, I am finished now’ as he packed up his office and left with the lady.