The Librarian

When I was just a baby, before I could speak

I would line up all my letter blocks alphabetically

and now it’s my vocation and my passion to assign

every decimal-numbered shelf to every decimal-numbered spine

I’m a librarian, I’m a librarian

and I like it quiet so the pages can be heard

I’m a librarian, I’m a librarian

and I do it for the love of the word…

I’m sure I’ve mentioned it… but, to be sure we’re on the same page, I’d best tell you that I’m unemployed.

Without career. Time on my hands. As the household adolescent explains it, I’m putting the ‘stay at home’ into ‘stay at home parenting’. And for those who haven’t been keeping up, I should also break it to you that I quite like velour leggings, stretchy tops from K-Mart and ugg boots. I don’t have to dress up each day anymore. Sold most of my career shoes on Ebay actually. Should see my feet. They look quite… different to before. There’s skin where the industrial strength elastoplast used to be. There’s no callouses or scabs either. They look like… feet.

We’ve been living in the new house in BeachVille for six weeks now. Plenty of time to settle in and take over. We’ve undertaken many essential activities within the community, like telling the kids off up the back for trampolining too high and peering into our yard (like any good ex-teacher I conducted a minor intervention to ensure minimal repeat occurrences of their behaviour… yes, I’m THAT neighbour). We’ve done stuff like meeting the mailman (sorry, postal delivery officer), who appears to come along every few days or so when he feels like it. The dogs are well and truly at home, having escaped Alcatraz to explore the area twice now (the first time we were worried, the second time… we just got cross at the little turds). The adolescent has narrowed down the list of possible part-time work venues to half a dozen fast food ‘restaurants’, a beading store (good grief) and a shop that sells bedazzled puppy accessories. Oh, and she’s enrolled in public school (a secondary consideration to getting a job and going to the beach with non-skanky potential new friends all of whom must love Twilight, Facebook, Glee and incessant texting). Brad the Tradie’s thinking of running for mayor (or state parliament) and I’ve finally figured out the new oven (what’s with all the settings?). We’re a bit worried about the invitation from the next door neighbour to go fishing in his boat, but we’ll jump off that bridge when we come to it. As long as we're not making dolphin kebabs it should work out OK.

AND… significantly, we’ve joined the local library.

Seriously. This was a big deal for us. We really only went there in the beginning because we’d heard they had free wireless internet access (I mean really… I can only sit at Macca’s for so long before I feel greasy and nauseated). And being the ‘keen to settle in and be part of the community’ kind of people that we are (…yeah I know…play along…) we thought we’d better get a library card as well.

I haven’t been a member of a library in a LONG time. Not work-related ones, or libraries that are necessitated through school or studying, but a proper, PUBLIC library. One that you go to for pleasure. I just haven’t needed to. I haven’t had time to. And they’re full of smelly, used things and people in trenchcoats and crocheted cardigans.

Or so I thought. Times have changed in Library Land apparently since I was fifteen. Our local is called an ‘E-Library’. It has E-verything. Our local shire is quite wealthy and apparently we like to spend loads of money on community facilities (I could just go with a highly subsidised land rates scheme… but we’ve already established that BtT hasn’t run for mayor just yet).

Our E-Library is a monument to glass, community love and the Dewey Decimal system.

There are ‘rooms’ where one can hold a gathering (BtT goes to one such ‘room’ for Greenie Group on a Monday). There’s a very-well equipped computer lab, generally packed with the elderly, all squinting at screens looking either quite nervous or quite excited (“Look! I’m on the Netterweb Gladys! Quick, help me find Ebay!!!”) There’s a TV room, with coffee machine, plush lounges that I wouldn’t mind for my house, magazines and all of those ‘how to be involved in your community pamphlets’. This is where the free newspapers get delivered, so the ‘great unwashed’ and pensioners hang out here. Especially during the World Cup soccer. VERY popular is the free telly, free newspaper, free coffee room. This is also where the free native seedlings were hanging out for a while. Two per household. Honesty system. Bless them. I think we ended up with thirteen.

Our library has DVD’s, CD’s, PC games, a book binding machine and several whiz bang colour copy thingies. You could nearly run a business out of the damn E-library. There’s shelves of subscription magazines (much to my relief, given that I’m banned from buying five mags a month now that I’m without career…) and ART everywhere. I know this because I’ve tripped over or bumped into most of it. You notice these things when ART is made of papier mache or stainless steel with sharp edges. The BHG is doing after-school  Art Class on Thursdays in a ‘room’  with a hippie called Carmel. Perhaps I should dress BHG in purple crushed velvet or something so she can ‘create from within’ properly. I get extra stay-at-home parenting points for not embarrassing her at the end of the lesson by exclaiming ‘Wow!!!! Only a hundred & fifty bucks a term for that crap!’

Naturally, there are books at our public library.

LOTS of books. Because it’s so rich, our library’s ‘new books’ section looks like Dymocks. I’ve generated quite a list that I’d like my public library to buy. For me. Bugger buying books myself anymore, especially seeing as though I give most of them away anyhow. I’ll get the library to do it! There’s a special button on the reservation computers where you suggest which books and magazines you’d like. There doesn’t seem to be a limit either. AND if you suggest the item, you get to borrow it first! SCORE!

But where there’s books, there’s a Librarian.

Gotta watch ‘em (the librarians, not the books). They’re SLY. Librarians are a special breed of quiet people. They sneak up behind you, pretending to shelf books, but really are checking to see if you’re going to steal something or spill your eco-travel mug of coffee on ‘the collection’ (it was only a DROP, I SWEAR!) And librarians have RULES. Like… only four DVD’s at a time. Geez. May as well have a rule where you can’t borrow a DVD unless you promise to read a book (a bit like the ‘have a glass of water for every alcoholic bevvie rule…) Rules like ‘no crunching of apples unless you’re in the room with the free newspapers and telly’. AND… our library team (yes… a TEAM of these middle-aged stealthy bookworms with permed hair) have a posh machine that prints out a receipt when you borrow, with each title listed and their return dates. Bloody return dates. Like it isn’t bad enough that you have to line up and scan your library card. THEN you have to bring all the bloody stuff back. On time. So that other people can have a turn. It’s so… COMMUNITY minded.

And don’t they just love the community all coming in to use the library. What happened to libraries being QUIET? You know, “inside voice”? “Shhh, this is a LIBRARY!” Even though I can’t eat an apple or spill coffee willy-nilly, we appear to have a policy of inviting pre-school sprogs of all descriptions in to make as much noise as possible. Teaches them to love books or something. Then the librarian brings out free Arnotts Family Assorted biscuit packets for the devil-spawn and their suffering parents. Although, quite frankly, how sitting around in a circle singing ‘Teddy Bear, teddy bear, run up the fecking stairs’ or whatever that annoying song is, can POSSIBLY be of benefit to ME is as yet unknown. I have, however, learned to avoid the library between ten and noon on days of the week starting with T.

So, I now read.

Because the books are free, and quite frankly, so am I. And by the looks of my book list, I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on. BtT pointed out the Book Club brochure, which I might investigate. One of my VGF’s is in a book club and she thinks it’s pretty good sitting around with other chicks talking about books. When I suggested this hobby to BHG she told me that if I wanted to take up a group activity I should try Synchronized Swimming because that's about the only thing daggier than Book Club. The books on the list look really HARD though. I just want a Bogan Book Club where we sit around and discuss Sex and the City, not all those really long books with enormous words and no nookie scenes. Or better still, a telly watching group, where we can just veg out on the plush lounges, have free coffee (must suggest Chai Latte) and bikkies (must suggest a toasted sandwich machine), then go home. Still, I’ll try a few of the books and see if I can stay awake whilst reading them before I risk making friends with people who use big words. It could be high maintenance carrying around a dictionary if I get too many smart friends.

Maybe I should just become one of the librarians. Can’t be that hard, scanning books, passing out packets of biscuits and counting how many DVD’s Bill and Beryl are borrowing this week. Maybe there's a secret librarians-only toasted sandwich machine out the back.

I’ll just go check the wardrobe for a crocheted cardigan…

Oh bugger… just tipped over my bloody coffee again. Woops. Best stay unemployed for a little longer. The life of a librarian just isn’t for me. Maybe I WILL take up synchronised swimming… much less dangerous.

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The Librarian - Jonathan Rundman, 2004 (yes, I hadn’t heard of him either. Don’t you love Google?)