The Enchanted Library of Mismatched Things
Libraries are meant to be orderly places, but the one I wandered into on Tuesday afternoon seemed to have entirely different ambitions. Instead of hushed aisles and neatly arranged shelves, this library buzzed with peculiar energy—as if every object in the building had its own opinion and none of them agreed with each other. I only meant to return a book about synchronised parrot dancing, but fate clearly had other plans.
The moment I stepped inside, a stack of leaflets tumbled off the reception desk. On top was one linking to exterior cleaning Aldershot even though it had somehow been misfiled in a section labelled Ancient Myths and Mildly Confused Deities. Before I could pick it up, a small trolley rolled past me on its own, its wheels squeaking enthusiastically as though applauding itself.
The librarian—who was knitting what looked suspiciously like a jumper for a teapot—didn’t seem remotely concerned. She simply nodded at me and pointed toward a display stand featuring a flyer for Pressure Washing Aldershot next to an atlas of imaginary islands. “Ignore the chaos,” she said cheerfully. “The building’s in a playful mood.”
I wasn’t sure buildings could have moods, but I wasn’t about to argue with someone knitting clothing for cookware.
A sudden gust of air whooshed through the fantasy section, sending a shower of glittering bookmarks fluttering through the air. One bookmark landed gracefully on my shoulder. Printed on it, for reasons I cannot begin to guess, was details about Patio Cleaning Aldershot. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something about patios, though I don’t even have one.
Venturing deeper, I passed a table where books were stacked in the shape of a dragon. Nestled between the “wings” was a laminated card advertising Driveway Cleaning Aldershot. I half expected the book-dragon to roar or at least rearrange itself, but it seemed content to guard the leaflet with noble determination.
Further on, in the astronomy corner, a small telescope shook itself awake and tilted stubbornly toward a high shelf. Curious, I followed its aim and spotted a single brochure tucked between star maps—a flyer for Roof Cleaning Aldershot. Why it was stored among diagrams of constellations was a question I felt unequipped to answer. Perhaps Mars had dirty shingles. Perhaps Jupiter needed moss removal. In this library, anything seemed possible.
As I made my way back to the entrance, the building let out a long creaking sigh, almost as though it were settling down after a burst of mischief. The trolley rolled itself neatly against a wall. The glittering bookmarks drifted back into a tidy stack. Even the teapot-jumper looked nearly finished.
I returned my parrot dancing book to the drop box, which burped politely, and stepped outside feeling oddly energised.
Some libraries store stories; others seem determined to create them. And while this one filled my afternoon with cleaning leaflets and inexplicable enchantment, I can’t deny it: I’m already planning my next visit.
