And so it was this Israel Armstrong-this child of the library, his head full of books and a little overweight perhaps these days in his brown corduroy suit, portly even, you might say, but not stout, and not yet thirty years old-who had found himself barred and locked out in the fishy-smelling, grey-grim town of Tumdrum on that cold December afternoon, and who found his way eventually to the Tumdrum and District Council offices, after having had to ask directions half a dozen times, and who was finally being ushered in, old brown suitcase in hand, to see Linda Wei, Deputy Head of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services, to sort out the apparent misunderstanding.

'Ah! Mr Armstrong' said Linda Wei, who looked as though she might have been quite at home on the Larne-Stranraer ferry-she was a big Chinese lady wearing little glasses and with a tub of Pringles open on her desk, and a litre bottle of Coke, half its contents already drained; you wouldn't have blinked if you'd seen Linda behind the wheel of an articulated lorry, honking on her horn while offering a one-fingered salute.

'We meet at last,' she said; they had previously spoken on the phone. 'Come on in, come on in,' she motioned to him, rather over-animatedly, and then again, for good measure, because Israel already was in, 'Come in, come in, come in!' She gave a small Cola burp and extended a sweaty, ready-salted hand. 'Lovely to meet you. Lovely. Lovely. Good journey?'

Israel shrugged his shoulders. What could he say?

'Now, I am sorry there was nobody to meet you at the ferry terminal this morning…'

'Yes,' he said.

'You were late, you see.'

There was an awkward silence.

'But. Never matter. You're here now, aren't you. Now. Tea? Coffee? It'll be from the machine, I'm afraid.'

'No, thanks.'

'Erm? Crisp?'

'No. Thanks.'

'They're Pringles.'

'No. Thank you.'

'I missed breakfast,' said Linda.

'Right.'

'Sure I can't tempt you?'

'Absolutely sure. Thanks anyway.' This was not a moment for Pringles.

'Well. OK. So. You're here.'

'Yes.

'And you've been to the library?'

'Yes.'

'Ah. Then you'll be aware that-'

'It's shut,' Israel said, surprised to hear a slight hysterical edge to his voice. 'The library. Is shut.'

'Yeeees,' she said, drawing out the 'yes' as though stretching a balloon. 'Yes, Mr Armstrong. There's been a wee change of plan.'

Linda paused for a crisp and rearranged herself more authoritatively in her padded black-leather-effect swivel-seat.

'So. You probably want to know what's happened?'

Israel raised an eyebrow.

'Yes. Now. Let me explain. Since your appointment as the new Tumdrum and District branch librarian I'm afraid there's been a little bit of a resource allocation. And the library-'

'Has been shut.' Israel tried to control the quavering in his voice.

'Temporarily,' said Linda, raising-almost wagging-a finger.

'I see. So you no longer need my-' began Israel.

'No! No, no! No! Not at all, not at all!' Linda licked some crisp crumbs from her lips. 'No! You are essential, in fact, to the…planned resource allocation. We are absolutely delighted to have attracted someone of your calibre, Mr Armstrong. Delighted.'

'But there's no library for me to work in.'

'Not exactly.'

'Not exactly?'

'That's right. You see, it's not a cutback in our funding, or anything like that we're talking about-no, no, no! It's more a re-targeting of our resources. Do you see?'

Well, to be honest, no, at that moment, Israel did not see.

'No. Sorry. You've lost me.'

'Well, yes, of course. You've had a long journey. London, was it?'

'That's right. Ten hours on the coach, eight hours on the-'

'I've a sister in London,' interrupted Linda.

'Oh.'

'Southfields? Would you know it at all?'

'No. I'm afraid not.'

'She's a project manager. For-what are they called? Something beginning with D?' She struggled for the answer. 'The mobile phone mast people?'

'No. Sorry. I haven't come across them.' Israel was not interested in Linda Wei's sister who lived in Southfields and who worked for a mobile telephone mast company which began with D. 'And getting back to the library?'

'Yes. Erm. The library. Well, first of all I want to assure you that we at Tumdrum and District Council are absolutely committed to continuing the public's free access to ideas and resources.'

'To libraries.'

'Yes. If you want to put it like that.'

'Fine. But you've closed the actual library?'

'Yes.' And here she ballooned out the 'yes' as far as seemed possible without it actually popping and deflating and turning into a 'no', and she reached up high to a shelf behind her and took down a fat ring-bound report, which she handed to Israel, and gestured for him to read. 'Here,' she said. 'This'll explain.'

The report had a title: The Public Library: Democracy's Resource. A Statement of Principles. Israel started flicking through. It was all output measures and graphs and tables-the usual sort of thing. He turned to the recommendations at the back.

'In the opinion of the Information Resources Steering Committee,' recited Linda Wei, who seemed to have memorised the key passages, 'it is important for the borough to continue to provide information resources with a high service proposition combined with increased competitive flexibility. The overall aim should be to minimise cost per circulation, and to maximise number of patrons served.'

'Right,' said Israel. High service proposition? Increased competitive flexibility? 'Which means?'

'Do you have a current British driving licence, Mr Armstrong?'

'Yes.'

'You do! Grand. That's grand!' She clapped her hands together, delighted.

'Because?'

'Because, the position we are now able to offer you is really very exciting. Very, very exciting. If, admittedly, slightly different to what you may have been expecting.'

'I see.'

'It's more…mobile.'

'Mobile?'

'Yes.'

'You mean a mobile library?'

'Exactly!' said Linda Wei. 'That's it, that's it.' She was so delighted with Israel 's powers of deduction that she helped herself to a handful of Pringles. 'You're like Hercule Poirot!' she said. 'I knew we'd picked the right man for the job. Although these days we don't call it a mobile library. We call it a mobile learning centre.'

'Right.'

'Pringle?'

'Thanks,' said Israel. 'But no. Thanks.'

Linda leaned to one side slightly in her chair then, and smiled, and audibly passed wind.

Oh, God.

It would probably be safe to say that the mobile library is not considered by many people in the know to be at the pinnacle of the library profession. At the pinnacle of the library profession you might have, say, the British Library, or the New York Public Library, or the Library of Congress, or of Alexandria. Then coming down from those Parnassian heights you have university libraries, and private research libraries, and then maybe the big public libraries, and then district and branch libraries, and school libraries, hospital libraries, libraries in prisons and long-term mental institutions. And then somewhere off the bottom of that scale, around about the level of fake red-leather-bound sets of the Reader's Digest in damp provincial hotels and dentists' waiting rooms is the mobile library.

The mobile library is to the library profession what, say, chiropody is to medicine, or indoor carpet bowls to professional sport.

'No,' repeated Israel.

'I have some Tayto cheese and onion, if you'd prefer?' said Linda Wei, who was busy licking her palms.

'No. I am not going to drive a mobile library,' said Israel.

'No, no, no!' said Linda, snapping back to attention. 'Ach. Of course not. Silly! We'll give you a driver for that. To show you the ropes. At least at first.'