A library is, in my book, one of life’s few essentials and as it was Albert Einstein who said it first, it must be true! I wrote a long, heartfelt piece about my love affair with my childhood library for Sharon at Sharon’s Book Blog.

I now know that pretty much every writer has a library love affair to confess to, but growing up I thought that particular obsession was entirely my own. Along with my special reading chair (an ancient rocking chair that was eventually discovered to be worm-infested and had to be carted off to the skip, an event that had me in mourning, much like I imagine the death of a beloved pet), my second-favourite place in the world was the library in town. This was back in the day when children could just yell a random ‘Back at 5’ in the direction of the living room and no parent would bat an eye. I was a reasonably social child, so some of those afternoons I must have run off actually playing, but in my memory, most of it was spent at the library.

It was blissfully quiet and the décor was reassuringly seventies-inspired, with green felt flooring and checkered sofas and an oversized woodsy-looking train filled with picture books. Everyone there loved books as much as I did and no one would tell you off for simply sinking to the floor wherever you stood, cracking open a book and starting to read.

That particular reading room in that particular library was where my love of fiction was born. To this day … READ ON HERE