The Unread Library

It is a little-known fact that most animals can in fact speak. Professor Tomhuddery noted in 1192, on trip to a place that is now known as Glasgow, that if the locals there could communicate using strange noise's then it was only right that the grunts and bleats of animals must be some sort of language. He dedicated the rest of his life to understanding how animals talked to each other, until, in an unfortunate incident some years later, he died after he misunderstood a rather disgruntled snake and thought he had been invited to afternoon tea.

One thing he did manage to determine, rather by accident, was that the larger an animals brain the more limited language it had. He declared that 'size doesn't matter'. He had spent 37 days on the side on a volcano after following a strange looking pink bird with quite a big head. The locals insisted on saying 'Fla - Min - Go' in the presence of the bird, he had very academically translated this to mean 'stupid animal'. Unfortunately, these stupid animals had simply stared as an oncoming flow of fire approached at some speed and perished. On his return to the village, he attempted to explain that there would be less 'stupid animals' around. A chant of Les-ser Fla-min-go started around the camp.

He had taken his findings to the Royal Court in London on his return only to find that unfortunately King Richard was 'on holiday' somewhere in the Middle East and would be unable to observe his studies. So, for hundreds of years his remarkable, if somewhat fortunate discoveries lay in a small village library 3 miles west of Hemel Hempstead. It wasn't until some 800 years later that this book would every see the light of day again.

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Jim Burns happened to be reading the Hemel Morning Herald, whilst enjoying a coffee in his pristinely kept country garden. It would seem at this stage a pure coincidence that Jim often talked to the many creatures that would, unknown to him, use his carpet like lawn to top up their tans. He always thought he somehow had a connection with them, and that each species had their own special way of saying good morning.

Jim lived alone and he liked it that way. He had one visit a week from a nice old lady who would pick some vegetables, enjoy a little small talk and be gone again within 15 minutes. On this particularly hot summer day, the old lady had appeared early much to Jim's annoyance. He placed his newspaper next to a rather splendid Tomato plant, straightened himself up and let the old lady in through a side gate. They began their usual discussion about the weather and what her rather annoying neighbour had been up. Jim found himself unusually intrigued by a rather sordid affair that had bought the local Women's Institute group to a rather abrupt end.

When the old lady had left Jim sat himself down, picked up his coffee, which was by now cold. He let out a sigh, poured his drink into soil and picked up his paper. A light breeze had changed his page, again annoying Jim. A picture of the local library greeted Jim and he immediately reminisced about happy childhood days spent playing in the wildflower fields that surrounded the rather unimpressive structure. He also noted that not once did he remember seeing anyone inside the library which had always seemed a little odd. The article itself was about a new bypass that would run straight through the site. Although he himself had never used the services the library offered and as far as he knew, no one else had either. He was off course appalled at how the local council thought that this was an acceptable decision. A Blackbird had by this point joined Jim and seemed to be engaging him into an action plan to save the much-needed library.

Jim decided that he needed to visit this historic and important local amenity to create this master plan and take on the proposed bypass. He would need to be quick though, in a mere four days the building work would begin. Walking down a country path that for some reason meandered through the forest, when it could just as easily be a direct track Jim was joined by several of the local residents. Bodge, who was a rather fat Badger was leading the parade of creatures shortly followed by Herb, a rabbit and Dave a fox who dabbled in the building trade, although everyone knew it was a cover business.

As they approached the library there was not a soul in sight. The only evidence of any concern was a note on the door,

'if you would like to registered your displease at the impending closure and demolition of the library on 4th July, please send a postcard to, 'The Council's Pre Decision Making Meeting Organiser Committee'. Your views will be considered at a pre meeting on 9th July.'

It would appear a local youth had added something rather rude underneath this note that Jim was ashamed to say he found a little amusing.

The library was so underfunded that they hadn't bothered to lock the door for some years. Even so, it was still difficult to open the large, ancient handle and even harder to push against the build-up of dust and dirt. As he entered the dark building, Jim wiped away the cobwebs from his face and squinted as he tried to find his bearings.

At first glance all the books had been removed and all that remained was a handwritten note stating that if a book was returned late it would cost 5 shillings a day. Jim was trying to work out how many years ago shillings were last used in England when a whisper in his ear said, '22 years'. Most people at this point would question were the voice had come from, however, Jim simply picked up the spider on his shoulder and placed it on the counter. They shared a wink and the spider crawled away.

As Jim explored the ruin, he was drawn to a dark corner that had been covered with stacks of chairs. This seemed to be the only place that he could find any books, so he placed his jacket over one of the chairs and grabbed the first book that was in reach. 'Tomhuddery: Ye Explanation o' Language o' Animals'.

Intrigued, Jim sat for several hours studying the book and wondering how long it had been since people believed this rubbish. 'What you make o' this?' he asked a field mouse, not noting the irony. Jim was about to give up on the idea of saving the library and accept that he would just spend the next few years; in what would be a markedly quieter garden, what with the new bypass, complaining to the nice old lady who came once a week about the travesty of events. 'One more page', he thought to himself. Little did he know that this page would transform our understanding of the animal world.

The animal under review on this 'one last page' was a Bull. Tomhuddery had by this stage of his studies worked out that the larger an animals brain the more stupid it was. He had also decided that a Bull must have a big brain because it has a big head. He had qualified his theory by pointing out that 'men with big feet, need big socks'.

Jim tried to argue against Tomhuddery's findings but found them to be logical, the gathered array of Butterflies were smirking as they congratulated each other on their small brains.

The problem now arose that Jim had just four days to convince the world that animals could speak, when he didn't quite know if he believed it himself. There was only thing for it, a pint of ale was needed. Some of best ideas had come to him in the Fox and Hound.

As he sat sipping his warm ale, he was watching two men play darts, passing judgement that games had no place in a proper pub. One of the men jumped up and down shouting 'bullseye', it would seem he had won whatever game they were playing. This proved to be the catalyst for Jim's master plan.

He ran out of the pub, leaving over half of his drink, something he noted; halfway down the road, as he considered turning back, that he had never done before. It could have been a moment of realisation, or the effect of five pints on a warm day, it didn't really matter. Jim knew that if he could prove that an animal even had one word of language, then someone would have to reopen Tomhuddery's study. The shout of 'bullseye' had rekindled a memory of a field behind the old library that was home to Gerd, a prize bull. It was highly unlikely the bull would still be there; one they don't live that long, and two, the farm was sold off years ago quite cynically to build a slaughterhouse. Nonetheless, Jim knew that if he could find an animal that could speak a single word, he would win his battle.

Rather surprisingly at the back of the library there was still a field, albeit and overgrown, muddy unloved field. As he entered, with little hope or expectation he spotted an old, depressed looking bull. 'What's my plan?', he asked out loud and was taken aback to hear a lot of noise behind him. There was no fewer than a hundred animals who were sat in groups discussing his options.

Jim had decided by now that he was definitely going mad, and he should probably just have stayed home that day. He was here now though, if he was indeed losing his senses he may as well try and get the bull to talk. Through bravery, or stupidity he poked the bull in the eye. The bull grunted. After poking the bull in the eye another nine times he deduced that the grunt was in fact the same every time. Had he proven Tomhuddery's theory after all these years?

By now, Jim was quite sure that this was one of the stranger days of his life, so he may as well go into the village and share his findings. Whether he was very convincing, or people were swayed by the army of animals that had joined him; some of whom had now started wearing clothes and carrying clip boards (There had been a consensus that this would make them somehow more credible; one of the ducks more splendid ideas), the local community decided that they would take these findings to the Queen herself. Someone had sarcastically commented that they hoped she wasn't on holiday somewhere hot.

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Tomhuddery's theories have since been proven beyond doubt, 90% of the world's population are now vegetarian and animals are allowed to live wherever they like. In fact if an animal wants your house they can just take it, although it is an unwritten rule that this would very much go against English sensibilities and as yet, has never happened.

As for the bypass, of course it was never built, in fact all by passes in the world were soon transformed into 'town belt parks'. It did cause a few traffic problems around town, but a pigeon suggested one day that we should only go somewhere if we need to and that seemed to sort the problem out.

And the library, it's still there, still has no books, is still dusty and unlocked and no one ever visits. It does, however, now have a special status as the birth place of human/animal understanding. As such it can never be demolished, changed, or restored, just as Jim had always wanted it.