Finals of a Diarist...
As a finalist you inevitably end up doing an awful lot of thinking. It's quite alarming. Before, you could just about blot out your cognitive processes by drinking, refusing to be alone, and by watching Neighbours. You could even watch the repeat to increase this effect, although there was always the danger that you might start to analyse the plot. Now however, you spend your daylight hours in silent contemplation of the law of trusts. What does this mean, you wonder. The libraries become your home, the librarians your friends, the security officers on the door like uncles that you visit all the time. (They are all called Stan, even the women.) .It's cheaper than being in the pub, you rationalise quietly, although you secretly suspect there is a reason for this. At the bell for last orders you are still there, like a regular who's had too much and really needs to be kicked out or put down. You heard they were going to start shutting the libraries at seven, and that worried you. After all, stopping people visiting libraries after seven could never solve the problem. It would be like prohibition in America in the twenties, it would just go underground. Next thing you know, the Mafia are running your faculty, and you don't just get fined for overdue books. Those guys play for keeps. 'What do you mean you haven't got it? I'm a reasonable guy but you've had The Invention of Tradition for three weeks now. It's a liberty. Hit him Mac.'
You have started to notice who is working and when, and that you can't leave till after the girl in the blue top because she is always there before you in the morning, and you are trying to impress her by stroking your chin for over three hours at a time. Despite all this you realise that in some way you are privileged. To study where the finest minds have blossomed. Tolkein, Lewis, Will from TFI Friday, they've all done their time encased in these sandstone vaults. You should make the most of it. Roam around. A man should broaden his horizons, see new shelves. Get permission to work in All Souls. Its not going to happen again unless you get that top first you've been hoping for. The Indian Institute is also good. You'll get kicked out if you don't look like you're studying India, so you'll have to barricade yourself in with 1857 and Gandhi and the Nationalists, but the view is fantastic, along the roofs, eye to eye with the statues, its like a shot from Gladiator, except without the constant flocks of birds. Also the librarian there is loopy, and says things like "Sorry, we turn all the oxygen off at 6:50pm" or "I am the Lone Ranger".
The real problem with libraries is that eating is not allowed. I do however fantasise about walking into the college library with a hamper of luxury sandwiches, a half bottle of red wine and a napkin tucked under my collar. I'd sit at my normal desk and begin my hearty repast whilst browsing through the TLS...... Unhappily however, I normally sit napkinless, dreaming of Boursin, drained of energy. You weren't going to order pizza or anything, but some sugar would stop you collapsing on your forearms and dribbling onto Skinner's Introduction to Political Thought. Its like that time, back in 1989 when you were trying to slip an Opal Fruit into your mouth at the back of class. The game has got tougher since then- you're getting too old for it and there are no more Opal fruits. Also, someone has turned up the volume on your crisps. They're only Walkers Ready Salted, but they're going off like fire-crackers. Next time you should wait until they are three months out of date and don't crunch like broken glass in a quiet church. People are staring now, lots of people. You fix them with the look that says "If I give you one then everyone will want one."
17th May 2001