We've moved. It's been a bloody business. One house falling through completely. The next taking forever. And as soon as we finally got in, my car was er - nicked - from the end of the road. So roots have been well and truly wrenched up.
But then I trot along to the nearest library and sign on, and behold, all is well again. That wonderful sense of coming home. The warmth. The smile. The shelves and shelves of books to explore. The notices pinned up inviting me to this or that event. The ease, compared to everything else about a move, of signing on. The huge sense of excitement and achievement at leaving the building with three lovely lovely lovely books under my arm.
And this, by the way, is now a community library because of the latest cull on these precious buildings. So it's run by volunteers. Because what a philistine appalling thing it would be to close the local library. Of course we shouldn't take them for granted. Of course they have to be modern and keep up with the changing technological world. But what a gift, what an open-handed, please come in and enjoy place a library is.
Thank you, library. I will treasure you all the more because you are not yet lost. And I will fight for your existence, free, to anyone who wants you, until my dying day.