Crikey

I have somehow become a possessor of a British Library reader's pass (and also, judging by this post's title, a resident of the 1950s). I always expected getting a reader's pass would involve running a gauntlet of very stern people, ready to send applicants back into the cold tundra (though I may have been getting them mixed up with something to do with Soviet Russia). In reality it took ten minutes (apparently the key is having the right personal ID) and nobody making me stand in the middle of a crowd of people and shouting at me that I have no talent (that bit comes later, I hear). Now I just have to avoid the vashta nerada deal with all the written and unwritten rules of the Library (there are always unwritten rules). People, be nice to the n00b.

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