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A particularly magnificent one it must be said.
But a library like any other library.
Where one discovery will lead you to another.
Higher and higher…
And higher we go.
Not quite at the top yet.
We’ve reached Liverpool’s main Storehouse of our Memories.
The Liverpool Record Office.
Here are the records.
And the maps of where we lived.
Liverpool the last one, Runcorn this one. The Castle at Castlefields.
Here are also the precious books of our place.
Well done ‘Hidden Liverpool’ – in a place of honour.
Mind you it’s strange some of the buildings that have been honoured here.
The Royal Liverpool received its own architectural monograph?
One more floor to go.
I came up here last year to talk about the future of our libraries.
We know know they’ll all be kept open somehow. But we still await details of how. And in some cases, who by. I’m watching carefully as we all are.
But now, out onto the roof.
Where there is company.
Looking down along Victoria Street.
Towards the river.
Across St John’s Gardens.
And coming closer.
Down at St George’s Hall.
Where we are is a mixture of a new central building and restored and reopened older buildings.
Time to go down now.
I was here.
Wise words always relevant.
Beyond the books there are always more books.
Sarah’s book displayed next to Elton John’s. She’ll be delighted.
On the way down.
People on computers and iPads all around me.
Someone else comes in and takes the photograph we all take.
In this magnificent place.
This place of wonder.
Where our history is written on the wall.
Our future is just through there.
And our present is the campaign of the week.
I could stay here forever.
And most night’s the library’s open late, unlike the local ones now we have the gift of austerity dumped on us.. But on Saturday even here closes at five. So I walk through town to get the bus home.
Past the names of the 96.
Nearly always flowers here for one of them.
Through the darkening streets.
Curlers in ready for Saturday night.
The corporate lights beam down on the shoppers.
I go into no shops myself. As ever, I don’t feel the need.
A gaming machine set up on the street. People in comfy chairs playing imaginary football.
The strange half-world of Liverpool One.
Out near the river.
And there’s my bus. Home to write this.
On National Libraries Day, long may they thrive.
Recommended article: Chomsky: We Are All – Fill in the Blank.
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