In which Hanna visits the library

I’m aware that this should not be a deal worthy of bloggery, but unfortunately it is.

I’ve lived in Sheffield for, ooh… four years now and today I finally took the plunge and signed on the dotted line. Well, the plastic white box anyway. Believe it or not, it’s a concept that never even occured to me before, strange as that may seem. I’ve always just straight-out bought them and then swapped them online if I didn’t like them.

The libraries near my Bradford house are terrible and I suppose it kind of coloured my view a little. You know the type – fifty-seven computers and four books. I went religiously every week when I was younger but then the computers sloooowly took over and I lost interest. If you walk in now, you have to be careful not to trip over the tumbleweed rolling past.

Sheffield library couldn’t be more different. There are people in there! Real people. And books, in a library. I was so excited wandering round – they have bestsellers, foreign language books, a YA section, sofas, a cafe… I’m actually sat here, oddly excited, wondering when I can go back.

I only got six today because I got tired halfway through my wandering and I couldn’t find the YA section. Ah well, more shelves to rifle through tomorrow!

I mean what kind of library has The Natural History Of Unicorns!?

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