Went to the British Library this week for the first time for months. Always love to see that great red brick building. Once, at a book signing a Chinese woman said the building was remarkably Chinese and I think of her whenever I walk across the great forecourt and feel incredibly grateful to have a fantastic rescource on my doorstep. The inside is buzzing with students and researchers on laptops and family groups and school outings. A fantanstic atmosphere of enquiry and energy. I always feel proud that this great institution has adapted to new learning methods, it was the first wi fi I came across when they introduced it several years ago.
Into rare books and music, my favourite reading room with the air of a cathedral, high, wide ceilings, natural light and the gentle footsteps of readers - as we users are called.
If bankers come from the seventh level of hell, then surely librarians come from a heavenly realm. I can honestly say, hand on heart, say I have never met a nasty one, having visited and worked in libraries on three continents. Those of the BL, as it is fondly known, are professional, helpful (how rare is that nowadays) and knowledgeable. They help find wayward books, those rebels who go AWOL en route from Boston Spa-even the name conjures up exotic locales surrounded by palm trees, mermaids and tumbling waterfalls. And patiently deal with the often eccentric readers, some very doddery who people the halls.
On this occasion, the purpose of this visit was to do some final drawings of Taino artifacts to put on my Quisqueya website: www.saving-paradise.moonfruit.com. Two hours of luxurious drawing to the sound of rare book pages turning. Ah what bliss!

 From the back, a Taino Shaman in deep contemplation made into a ritual vessel. Pottery, found in Higuey, Republica Dominicana.