Among Others

school hat. The winter hat is a beret. There’s a straw boater for summer. The hat is entirely penitential for me; it always wants to fall off my head when I move.
    The librarian, who was a man, quite young, said that if I was at Arlinghurst I should use the school library. I said that I did, and that it was inadequate to my needs. He actually looked at me then, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment I thought I’d won, but no. “You need a parent’s signature on this form, and a letter from the school librarian saying you need to have the use of the library,” he said. Behind him were all these shelves of books, stretching out. He wouldn’t even let me in to browse.
    However, I found a bookshop, and a little bit of wild ground. The shopping bit of Oswestry is basically two streets with a market cross at the top, with a market. The library, which is a typical Victorian library building, is just off there. Last time, that’s all I saw—the bus stops at the bottom of the hill and the library is essentially the top of it. But there’s a road that curves down to the left and I thought it might go around to where the bus stop is. It didn’t, and it got very residential and I thought I was going to have to go back, but then there was another curve and a pond, with mallards and white swans on it and trees around, and on the other side of the road, a little parade of shops, and one of them a bookshop.
    I bought Samuel Delany’s Triton . I don’t know if my father has it already, I don’t care. It was 85p. The lady in the bookshop was really nice. She doesn’t read SF, but she tries to keep a good selection. It was nothing to a really good selection like Lears in Cardiff, but it wasn’t bad at all. I’m going to ask my father for pocket money so I can buy books. I’m also going to ask him to sign the library form. I’m pretty sure he will. I’m not so sure about Miss Carroll writing a letter.
    Next door to the bookshop is a junk shop with three shelves of secondhand books, all of them old and battered. I bought Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle for 10p. I liked her Dalmatians books, especially The Starlight Barking , or “Klothes that Klank” as Mor used to call it. I didn’t know she’d written any historical fiction. I’ll keep it until I’m in the mood for a good siege.
    That left me with 5p. There wasn’t anything there for 5p. The third little shop in the row is a bakery and cafe. I went in, because Sharon had asked me to buy buns. Now this is a thing people do. The way it works is that you buy the buns yourself, or get someone to buy them for you. Then you give the bag to the kitchen staff with instructions, and they get sent to the designated recipients after lunch on Sunday. The rule is you have to buy at least two, you can’t just buy for yourself. Popular girls have whole piles of different buns every week. Usually I don’t have any. Deirdre doesn’t have much money, and Sharon’s Jewish. But Sharon’s doing it this week, because she’s nice. I mean, it’s especially nice of Sharon to do it because she can’t even eat them. Jewish people have to have special food. Sharon’s special food seems much nicer than our school food. It comes on trays. I wonder if they’d give it to me if I told them I was Jewish? But what if I’m not Jewish enough and it killed me or made me sick? I should talk to Sharon about it before trying it. Anyway, Sharon wanted me to buy buns for me and Deirdre and Karen, who’s her other friend. So I bought buns, and they were 10p each or four for 35p, so I bought four, using my own fivepence. They were honey buns, and they were still warm from the oven and I walked over by the pond and ate one. It was absolutely delicious.
    There’s a bench by the pond, and grass growing around it, and willows by the water, dipping down over it. The leaves on the trailing branches are turning yellow. I always think weeping willows is a good name for them, but then so is “sally willows.” Willows love water and alders hate water. There’s a road over Croggin Bog called Heol y Gwern, the Alder Road, because people planted alders along it to make a safe dry path. Neolithic people, they think. Certainly it was there before the Romans. It was a shock, reading the history of the valley. When I go back, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it for granted the same way.
    I sat on the bench by the willows and ate my honey bun and read Triton . There are some awful