Today was world book day; I found this out by being in the Barbican Library engaging in a bit of fine-avoidance. The man serving me at the desk was dressed in a red sequin dress, with a black bob and a feather boa. “Nice dress” I said. “Thank you.” Book scanned. “It’s world book day today.”, “Oh, really.” “Yes, so we’re all dressed as characters from books” Child behind shouts out ‘hello princess Leia’ across the library. “So who are you then.” “I’m from a well known spy series.”, “Right.” “Casino Royale is the first one.” “Right” {I’m not sure I’m going to get this}. “So I’m like a generic Bond girl.” {You’re trying to get me to guess something generic?} “Oh good”. Indiana Jones is stacking books with a plastic snake sticking out of his bag. He looks very grumpy, and wafer thin. A row of plastic weapons has been left on the enquiry desk, and a fairy godmother is watching over them while talking earnestly on the phone “So the first question is have you finished with the books…”, presumably the second question is ‘do you have any idea you are talking to a middle aged woman wearing wings and covered in tinsel’. I can’t find the book I’m looking for, and Darth Vader is huffing about. I go back to the desk to talk to Generic Bond Girl. “I can’t find Sebald.” S/he takes me over to where it should be, but there it isn’t. Is he walking seductively? No. It’s just what heels do to people. I get a free reservation. They should employ me to discover what books have been nicked, this is always happening to me.
