I have a quiet afternoon for once. So, in between leisurely scanning books and planning enrichment activities, I’m writing this. You might think, considering the nightmare of a job I had last year and the high-stress and long commutes that many of you have, that I have no room to complain. I shan’t. I enjoy my job.

It took a bit of getting used to, granted. I had assumed that the overwhelming melancholy and aggressive loathing associated with my place of work was customary - that everyone who has to get up before it’s light and get in after it’s dark must also be suffused in a metaphorical darkness that only lifts at weekends. Taking the occasional day off, while admittedly not due to actual illness, was perfectly acceptable in the wake of sporadic attacks of paranoia and panic that were hard to shake off.

All that bad-temperedness from parents suddenly seemed understandable- after all, I only go to work to support my own needs, not those of some layabout oafs and scroungers who I have to not only feed, clothe and keep warm but educate as well. It must be quite galling, even when you love the loafers in question.

Reading this, you may be thinking that I would do well to avoid having children. While this might be true, at least in the current climate, I find that I can cope with working with them.

My quiet afternoon comes about as a result of the fact that, for the first time in about two months, I have not been commandeered and cast out from my cosy library in order to cover lessons, invigilate exams, do duties, attend meetings, supervise prep etc. All of this on top of the actual activities in my job description, namely, run the library, order books, arrange book-seller and author meetings, catalogue books, set up the new electronic database and scan the all of the current library stock onto it, teach library database lessons, plan and run enrichment activities such as Book Clubs and Sixth Form Film group. On top of this I’m walking since I sold my car and it takes nearly an hour to get to work. I could go on but I won’t. That might sound like complaining and really I’m not.

Sometimes I get a little worked up, since technically I’m doing three different jobs and only getting paid for one, but I can’t feel too bad. Certainly I am put upon more than I should be but it’s all a lot of fun and I get enough to pay my bills. I don’t wake up in a cold sweat, choking on my own phlegm and lachrymatory fluid so life’s a picnic.

In fact, according to the Independent Schools’ Inspectorate (Like Ofsted for private schools) “pupils use the library well.” Great. Of course no one actually asked me how the pupils use the library or asked for any evidence or statistics. Clearly the 10 seconds the inspector took to glance round the door, say “Is this the library and are you the librarian?” get his answer and then leave again, were enough to convince him of my great educational and moral influence upon the children. He could tell by my friendly and approachable nature and display of new books that they are literally beating down the door to hang out at the library.

And so they are. Sort of. After the first two weeks of my employment, not only had no one borrowed a book, but when someone finally plucked up the courage they said “Can you take the books out of here and take them home, like in a normal library?” This was the general expectation from all the girls. They looked at you askance and edged gingerly towards the door if you suggested that they were allowed to remove the books, as if they were being had in some way.

When I tell you that I have over a hundred books on current loan, in a school of under 160, and that use of the library at lunch and after school has gone from non-existent to partially migraine-inducing, I’m sure you’ll agree how great I am.

Of course, it’s not like I spring up out of bed every morning, eager to complete the 3 mile walk and get to school. But sometimes I look forward to it and it never feels like torture- more like a bit of an inconvenience. I guess I am quite lucky.