Hello again to the patient readers of the Liblog. The metaphorical tides of journals and shelves, files and books have been swept up and reconstituted into the lovingly labelled, serried ranks of boxes (280 and counting…) at 81 Parnie Street, our new light and bright decant space.
The literal tides of rainwater into the old space – through the ceiling and across the floor and down the steps of the close have kept us remarkably unsentimental about the Big Flit.
Life at 109 Trongate over the last week was unquestionably joy-filled and exciting – visiting our sister project in London and the inspiring Peckham Library, making plans for our Mexican conference odyssey (more anon) planning the new LLL programme, but also necessitated dealing with the Dickensian realities of the New Wynd. Disposing of human (dare I say men’s?) faeces from the lift doorway on Monday morning, disposing of human (dare I say men’s?) vomit covering the remains of the faeces on Tuesday morning, calling an ambulance for the man found in an unrousable slumber in the lane as we left on Tuesday evening, coming in to a torrent of leaks dripping from light fittings and alarmingly through the wall, a floor covered with pools of water, shortcircuited electricity and a pitch black close… It was reassuring to be reminded by our sisters at the Women’s Library in London that floods precipitated their final rescue and phoenix-like renaissance and things could definately be worse.
Weirdly this still feels like a charming, quirky, loveable space and in recent weeks I have been struck breathless daily by the treasures uncovered during the process of (un)packing. What a truly wonderful idiosyncratic, unique collection. I can’t wait for its sheer brilliance to be unleashed through the catalogue and a new, dry, safe home fit for it, for us and our users.
