On Tuesday, after my usual dithering over energy levels (I always have to try and work out how much activity I can do each week) I took myself off to the city’s central library. It had been a long time since I’d managed to get there, but it was clear as soon as I was on the bus that it was a good thing to do. I find working from home very difficult, in spite of the fact I’ve chosen to do so. I often feel daunted each morning about sitting down and starting something, or I get distracted by other chores. “Going out to work” is helpful for me, as long as I can come home when I get tired.
Initially I took myself down to the lower level and found myself a little booth to work in. I love that feeling of privacy while still being aware of others around me. I tentatively brought out my netbook and began to type up some notes I’d scribbled on the manuscript of my book. It was the first time I’d taken the netbook “out to work” with me since I got it for my birthday last year.
The library is part of a larger building, which includes an art gallery (with small shop) and cafe, as well as being attached to the guildhall and civic centre. Basically, everything I need is in one place – more energy saving, which is important. I took myself for a coffee break in the cafe, bagging a sofa and reading an interesting article about a certain tribe in one of the many copies of National Geographic. Alas, it became apparent I would need to visit the ladies before I’d finished the article (National Geographic articles tend to be long!). The ladies, of course, was just across the corridor and then I slipped back into the library, this time heading upwards, to check out the Religion section.
I immediately discovered some helpful tomes among the various dictionaries of theology and Christian thought and, finding myself a little table under a window, I proceeded to spend the rest of my time taking notes on an interesting and highly pertinent (to my research) article on memory. The view was not terribly inspiring (although I believe they are doing some work on the building in front), but if I leaned slightly to the left I could see the saplings in the new Square, and watch pedestrians wander to and fro. It felt nice to sit in the window, anyway.
The next window along contained a man perched with a book in front of him; he wasn’t reading it. He was asleep for the whole time I sat there, occasionally uttering little peaceful snores. He stirred at one point, but then settled himself back down. I’m not convinced he ever intended to read the book.
Reluctantly realising I needed to leave in order to have energy for the rest of the day, I caught a different bus home.
I don’t drive – time, health and money have never had the right convergence. Health is the most problematic of all when it comes to learning to drive, although I have had some lessons. Alas, I would come home shaking with exhaustion which lasted for a week – until the next lesson.
Buses are important for my sense of independence. It’s only 15p more for a day ticket now than it is for a return to the city, and it frees me up to hop on whatever bus I want. It took me an unfamiliar and therefore interesting route before dropping me off less than 10 minutes from home.
A very satisfactory morning (although I was very tired in the afternoon) – but possibly a boring blog post!
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