WHEN, ONE THURSDAY MORNING last winter, I arrived at Battle library in west Reading, the library manager, Terry Curran, was sitting at the front desk writing a quiz. "It's not a hard quiz," said Curran, who was worried about attendance. "Often just the same two ladies turn up, and they don't pay attention." Still, he hadn't lost hope. He'd even put posters up in the Tesco round the corner. The phone rang. "Yes, we have a children's craft session at two," said Curran's colleague Amanda Giles, her voice warm and encouraging. "Just come along." They'd already received an urgent request from the housing team at a nearby council, about someone who had to scan a form by 2pm if he was going to be housed before Christmas. Could the library help? They didn't usually offer scans, but Battle would make an exception - and they wouldn't charge.
A man carrying a plastic bag rustled up to the front desk. He twitched as he spoke. "Do you have a magnifying glass?" he asked. Curran disappeared into the office and returned with a small purple magnifying glass from a children's game. The man thanked him and made for the computers. An elderly gentleman with a courtly air had a question about the library's irregular opening hours. "They're difficult for me to understand," he said. "They're hard for me as well," answered Curran. "This library is a very friendly type of place," added the man, unprompted. "I've written a letter about it."
Another man, in late middle age, took a seat at the quiz table and started reading a Mick Herron novel. Curran turned to me and stagewhispered: "Yes! There's going to be one other person!" In the event there were five: the Herron-reading man, the elderly gentleman and three women, who seemed to be friends, taking a break from errands. Curran began to panic that his questions were too easy. But it was too late to change anything, and at 11am they were off.
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