All shall fade: A Christmas holiday of farewells

Me and my nephews

Most things are ephemeral, everyone knows that. However it doesn't mean we're any the less sad when things come to an end. The knowledge that almost nothing ever lasts forever doesn't make saying goodbye any easier. Recently there have been several significant goodbyes for me. I really wished it could be Christmas every day this new year.

There are always goodbyes at Christmas. When family and friends get together, people that haven't seen each other for a while, especially in my case when some of the family live abroad, there will be hard goodbyes. Even though we had been on holiday together earlier in the year and the goodbye then was difficult and emotional, the goodbye at Christmas, actually on New Year's Eve, was worse. It should have been easier as they were back and forth visiting people and we didn't seen them as much as before. But you never get used to saying goodbye. It should never be a casual thing.

Christmas meal

Christmas always makes things seem more significant: it's the traditions, presents, decorations, family meals, but mostly the time off from everyday life. It may only be a few days in actual time, but in quality time, nothing beats Christmas; it makes everything seem deeper, more profound, loaded: heavy.

Back to the Future, good Christmas film and good use of the word "heavy"

As if saying goodbye to all that wasn't bad enough, what made it worse was seeing my nephews together, with two nieces on the way, two big meals with all 10 of us and a couple of evenings when it really felt like we were one big happy family again. It all made me look back in a nostalgic way. I can still remember being a little kid at big family gatherings, playing with my cousins, my aunts and uncles around. Now I'm one of those aunts. I never thought it would happen. I love being an Auntie, don't get me wrong, but I feel more like a kid than an auntie. I kept thinking of a song lyric: "If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all. And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you've been here before." Yes, but in a different role, or torn between two roles: a child and a grown-up.

I guess I just don't want anything to change. Yet it does anyway. Time marches on. Living is easy with eyes closed. So now, after sitting in the cinema last night, listening to Billy Boyd singing as the credits rolled, an era of my life came to an end. I know now how the Star Wars generation felt after Return of the Jedi, how they must have felt after Revenge of the Sith, except The Hobbit films were infinitely better and not a major disappointment. They also came nine years on and not 16 years on.

The moment that caused the panic attack

I know I lay greater significance on Lord of the Rings than it really deserves due to my emotional connection to it; it symbolises my progression after coming through mental illness as I had my worst panic attack while watching the Fellowship of the Ring in the cinema. The films came out during an impressionable time for me. I was seventeen, school had ended and my life was transforming around me, giving me independence, independence I couldn't handle; life was being forced upon me. It was all a great big scary adventure and I empathised with Frodo leaving his safe and comfortable existence and going out into the big dark world. Now the film series has come to an end, when I'm more secure. My life has changed radically from the first Lord of the Rings to the last Hobbit film. I believe I'm quite valid in mourning the end.

Boromir dies

It wasn't like after the last Lord of the Rings film; I was film savvy enough then to realise they would be making The Hobbit. But because of various rights battles, including between the movie studios New Line and MGM, Guillermo Del Toro bowing out and the time it takes to make a Tolkien/Peter Jackson masterpiece, it took longer than expected. But there was always the possibility.

Sitting in the cinema yesterday, it came upon me that this would almost definitely be the last time I would see a new Tolkien film in the cinema. Billy Boyd singing didn't help matters, bringing to mind THAT moment when he sang before, which inspired the title of this blog post and the soundtrack to Faramir's sacrificial charge. I cried in the cinema after Return of the King for Frodo when he sailed from the Grey Havens. I cried for the characters then. This time I cried for me. I cried for the end of an era. I cried for the film series I grew up alongside. I cried for the person I used to be and for the person I am today. I cried for the past. I cried for the future. I didn't weep. Tears were not even shed; I held them back, just. I wish I could have cried instead of crying inside. But I was in a public place and we had to get home. I just had a moment to myself, to mourn. The quality of the film itself ultimately didn't matter, though it was excellent, but like The Lord of the Rings, I preferred the more innocent first of the series; it was what it signified.

Lastly and least importantly, I lost a friend over Christmas: Miranda. Much has been said in criticism about this TV series and I would be the first to admit that the last ever episode wasn't the best. But I have stuck by her from the first hello, through the highs of the therapist episode right until her inevitable wedding. I empathised with all her social faux-pas, potent awkwardness and lack of confidence. In short, as with all Miranda's fans, I saw a lot of myself in her, especially in the struggle to be herself which it ultimately came down to. And despite the silliness, the unreality and flaws of the episode, it was seeing Miranda finally grow up a little, become more independent and gain some self-esteem that moved me. It was a lovely and lovingly crafted goodbye, with a nod to the viewers. So so long to Customer, Clive, Mike, Chris, Alison, the therapist, Charlie, Tilly, Penny, Stevie, Gary and Miranda. I for one will miss you.

Finally, to sum up, I'm turning to Doctor Who, which has been all shades of wrong recently, right from when Steven Moffat took over, especially in the way the latest Doctor is treating humanity; he used to see us as equals, sacrificing himself for Wilfred in the end; now he sees us as something to look down on, patronising and superior. Anyway, the Christmas episode got one thing right. Christmas should be treated like it's your last; a silent goodbye runs through the holiday, never spoken, until the last day of course. Christmas is special like that. Appreciate and spend time with your loved ones as you don't know what next Christmas will bring.

Well, all these goodbyes are in the spirit of Auld Lang Syne and it's an appropriate way to begin a new year. Here's to 2015 and to last goodbyes.

My own thing

I’m glad I’ve finally got round to writing this post as I was greeted by this literary quote when I loaded iGoogle:

"Siempre imaginé que el Paraíso sería algún tipo de biblioteca." "I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library" - Jorge Luis Borges (Argentinian writer)

It was quite apt as this was on MSN:

Most beautiful library

Paul Bernhardt/Lonely Planet
Looking down at the interior of the Real Gabinete Portugues de Leitura, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. Built in 1837, it's home to more than 350,000 works, many dating back to the 16th century.

I’ve had a quite a few flattering remarks from Cam23 bloggers saying how much they like my writing and that I should carry on, so here I am! Thank you Emma, Jenni, Celine, Helen and Libgeek, this is because of you. I expect it will be more sporadic than before, but I’ll definitely be blogging about our library video when it’s ready and I will embed the YouTube version into the blog post. We filmed the last scene the other day. I’m afraid I can’t reveal any more than I already have done on my @judgesarah Twitter feed, but if you click here, courtesy of Kirsty, you’ll find a rather amusing taster. Warning, it contains Andy’s knees.

Before I get started on the thing that inspired this post, a few updates. I’ve finally realised I can change the settings of my JournoTwit page. Of course it’s now purple! JournoTwit was recommended to me as it’s a brilliant website which consolidates all my Twitter information, making it a lot easier to see new tweets, including when someone mentions me. I’ve got columns for my favourite people, BBC news and the Cam23 chatter.

Okay, onto the reason why I’m here writing this. There may not be any more things to analyse, but here is an analysis of my own thing, hence the title. I was one of the librarians who went to the Central Library tour and I was sufficiently struck by what I saw to give me enough material to write about. It was over a week ago now, but a little distance only helps you to gain perspective. Something I wish people would understand sometimes.

I love the quote over the entrance; unfortunately it wasn’t there when we visited. It’s probably incredibly uncool to admit it, but I was a library kid and I'm proud of it. I have very fond memories of the old library. I was in there every Saturday and I thank my parents for encouraging my love of reading, learning and particularly books. I used to have to use my parents’ cards as well as my own because I wanted to take out so many books. I used to browse the shelves and then when I found a book, I sat on the floor and read it there and then. I used to watch the people walk by in Lion Yard below and spend hours there just loving the whole essence of the place; you’d have to drag me away.

What changed? Well the library shut, for four years. In the time it took to renovate the place, with the Grand Arcade growing around it, the technological advances and the endless problems (such as not factoring the weight of the books in so the building sank, that may just be a fabulous rumour though), I learned to live without it. Plus I still had the little library in the village where I live. Since it reopened, I’d only been in once before the tour and that was to while away half an hour or so. I just stayed in the foyer looking at the ‘quick picks’. So a tour was most welcome and I hoped that it would bring back some of the enthusiasm I used to have for the place. Unfortunately it wasn’t to be the case, but it may not have been the library’s fault, or our guide’s who was very knowledgeable, experienced and a long-running employee. I reckon it was mine as I have grown up and moved on.

It was a very grown-up tour as the first thing that became clear was money and natural light issues; strip lighting never makes for a good atmosphere. Right beside the cafe is an exhibition section which people can hire out. The much celebrated Cambridge Collection which is all about the history of Cambridge and its surroundings and includes old maps, communal archives and local documents, is independently looked after. There aren’t many librarians left; I think it was 25 throughout the entire county. They also seem to be keen to promote the library such as the scheme they have running in order to get children reading. If you have children, they will enjoy the bright yellow book train, the games and the toys. The quick picks section is also a good idea, if a nightmare for the librarians as it isn’t organised in the slightest. There are some nice snugs there and the window seat allows you to watch the world go by underneath. I can’t believe they didn’t organise their fiction books into categories at first. I really like their stickers; a gun for war, a magnifying glass for mystery, a heart for romance and so on.

However the way they organise the staff is exceptional. No one spends too much time in one place; they have a very colourful timetable; the floors are all colour-coded which makes finding things a lot easier, as well as locating where you are. There is a back office, but most of the employees work out at the desks on each floor. There is also a brilliant book sorting machine, complete with conveyor belt, which is attached to the book return slot next to the entrance. It uses RFID which I hate; those stickers are impossible to remove. The self-issue machines (in English and Polish) and information points (computers) are scattered throughout the library, and there is Wi-Fi access anywhere in the entire building. Unsurprisingly the VHS and CD sections are empty of people. This is not only due to the advent of DVDs, but also because there is the BFI film room where you can access local history films as well as watch movies.
Even though the new Central Library is superb, I still miss the old one, in the same way I miss the old Parkside pool and the old MGM cinema. To me however, the new library is not so enticing a place. The only comfortable areas are the quick picks, the children’s area and the BFI film room. I still remember the stuffy, velvety, worn, deep blue carpets of the old library, the dark wood shelving, the children’s play room with the round window, the ground floor entrance and the soothingly intimate lighting that only just gave you enough to see by. I could've easily spent the whole day there. But that’s just my nostalgia talking, as usual.