7:10 The Society for Creative Anachronism has defied the odds by showing up to use the Henderson Room, a small conference room on this floor. It is almost always booked on Thursday nights, but it's been months since anyone actually showed up to use it. Members of the SCA can easily be identified at a glance, if you are expecting them. They always seem to be enjoying themselves.
It's the first week of no daylight saving time. It was almost too dark to read on my Park Avenue bench by the time my supper hour was over.
I found Incline Our Hearts in the basement trash bin where the book donation volunteers discard materials they deem unsellable. This is where librarians find their reading matter, while entering or leaving the building by the staff entrance. I'm only joking, but it's funny to see everyone peek into the bin, a large canvas hamper on casters, as we file out at night. It's like the fishing game at a school fair.
I once found an old and worn hardback copy of Waugh's Men at Arms. It had been withdrawn from the U. of Penn. library sometime after 1955, with only 5 date due stamps.
Its cover blurb compares Wilson's Incline Our Hearts to Powell's A Dance to the Music of Time, being the first of five novels that comprise The Lampitt Chronicles. It's a nostalgic and very funny coming-of-age story. If you've been to a boys' school, you will especially enjoy it.
8:06 The SCA leaves down the stairs. Check the room. It's locked, with the lights turned off.
Internet workstations still almost all occupied, but very quiet.
8:30 First closing announcement.
Count & bag change drawer. Police Internet area for discarded reservation slips, golf pencils, broken pens, gum wrappers. Realign tables and chairs in reading area. Turn off catalog PCs by reference collection and in stacks.
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2 comments:
SCAer Robert the Ruthless rented the room opposite mine in Richardson House, a boarding house I lived in whilst a college student. Wondering if he's still active in SCA?
Dunno. A motley group of what I think are SCAers meets weekly near the Myers Park tennis courts to practice sword-fighting in a manner that bears no resemblance at all to fencing.
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