Why I love libraries

I grew up in a block of flats that rose above a library. As we were all voracious readers but lived in a tiny flat with minimal bookshelves, my parents, brother and I were able to read and return books to our hearts content. We also ordered new books and the library system bought them and issued them to us for free. What an amazing service. My first port of call, when we moved to The Gables, was to join St Neots library, where the staff apologised for the recent implementation of a £1 reservation fee for ordering books. Good value in my “book”. Today I drove 40 miles to the historic town of Stamford which boasts 5 medieval churches. I went straight to the library (pictures above) on the pedestrianised high street where the helpful librarians gave me a map of the town and in addition a mediaeval trail map. I was in the town to get a feel of a place where, in 1190 following the mid lent fair, 30 Jews were murdered by a frenzied mob. I even sat through part of a communion service at one of the biggest medieval churches – built with money lent by the Norman Jews who were encouraged to settle in England by William the conquerer after 1066. I was able to speak with the vicar after the service. I did not take communion!

There is much to say about the period 1066 to 1290 when Jews were expelled from these shores. They were not allowed to return until the rule of Oliver Cromwell in the mid 17th century.

Below are the remnants of Stamford Castle where the Jews sought sanctuary from the mob in 1190. Several people I spoke with today were angry that the town bus depot had been built adjacent to and upon these ancient ruins!

Views below of the river that runs through the town. It is a beautiful place with a chilling history.

One thought on “Why I love libraries

  1. Thank you for sharing this. I cannot quite remember where I first heard of this atrocity from our history. Ironically, it may have been from books recommended by a Catholic priest when I was living in Spain. It remains a stain on our collective conscience.

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