The Delegates' Choice aka The Book Stops Here

15

Britain's premier-and only-convention of mobile librarians, organised by the Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals, was taking place in a disused airfield. The event was the opposite of the gathering at Stonehenge, just a few hours' drive away. Here, there was no worshipping of the Earth Mother by people with strange names wearing eccentric clothes. Instead, here were men and women called Ken and Barbara, in sensible shoes and cardigans, standing around drinking tea and coffee from flasks, and admiring each other's vehicles, which had been polished and preened and primped in preparation. There were about fifty mobile library vans in attendance, parked in neat rows.

And in the last row, at the end of the row, newly arrived, with a small and attentive crowd gathered round it, was the mobile library from Tumdrum.

'Coming through!' Israel was saying. 'Mind your backs please!'

The Mobile Meet attracted mobile libraries from all over the country, big ones and small ones, new ones and old ones, and with every type and shape and size of mobile librarian to match, but it would be safe to say the Mobile Meet had never seen anything quite like the newly decorated mobile library and its muddy and bedraggled librarians from Tumdrum.

The crowd parted as Israel made his way through.

Mobile librarians are of course some of the finest, most open-, broad- and community-minded individuals in the world-they're basically social workers on wheels, with a penchant for Penguin Classics-but even they found it hard to comprehend exactly what Ted and Israel's mobile library was all about.

'What is this all about?' murmured the on-looking crowd.

'I don't know.'

'It's some sort of hippy van, isn't it?'

'I think they must have taken a wrong turn on the way to Stonehenge.'

The crowd had formed around the van almost as soon as Ted and Israel and Israel's mother had arrived and parked, with people pressing in close to get a look at the extraordinary paintwork, and to sneak a look inside.

Ted and Israel's mother were sitting like sentinels, or like Odysseus and Penelope, on the steps of the van waiting for Israel, who had been deputed-unwillingly, and unfairly and as usual-to go and find coffee and tea and to fill in the necessary registration forms.

'Coming through,' Israel repeated, clutching polystyrene cups of coffee. 'Excuse me! Librarian coming through! Mind your backs!'

'About bloomin' time,' said Ted, accepting a cup of coffee.

'We're certainly drawing the crowds then,' said Israel, handing another coffee to his mother.

'We're celebrities,' said Israel's mother.

'Aye,' said Ted. 'Mebbe. But we've no chance of the Concord De Le Glance, have we, after what those flippin' Gypsies-'

'They weren't Gypsies!' said Israel.

'Hippies,' said Ted, 'have done to my van.'

'Concord De Le Glance?' said Israel's mother.

'Concours D'Elégance,' said Israel.

'That's the one,' said Ted.

'It's the prize for the best-looking van,' explained Israel.

'Not a chance,' said Ted glumly.

'I don't know,' said Israel. 'Look at the crowd. The judges might look kindly upon something so…different.'

'Aye,' said Ted.

'Anyway,' said Israel's mother. 'This is the famous Mobile Meet. We're here. We made it. But I have to say it doesn't look that impressive so far. A lot of white vans.'

'Well, we've already missed a lot of the seminars,' said Israel, referring to a leaflet he'd picked up in the makeshift administration building, an old Nissen hut. 'Here we are: "Public Library Service Standards: The Future", "The Disability Discrimination Act: In Practice" and "New Developments in Livery." Missed them all.'

'Pity,' said Ted.

'But apparently the judges are still working their way round looking at the vehicles.' Israel referred again to the leaflet. 'There's awards for Livery, State of the Art, Delegates' Choice, Concours D'Elégance.'

'Hooray!' said Israel's mother.

'So we've still got a chance. We're not entirely out of the running.'

'Not a chance,' said Ted, again. 'It'll take me months to have this resprayed properly.'

'Well, whether or not you win,' said Israel's mother, 'I think you've done very well just getting here. We got the van back, and that's the main thing. And certainly what you have now, for better or for worse is…' She glanced up behind her at the painted vehicle. 'Very…different.'

'Aye, well, there's different,' said Ted, 'and then there's stark ravin' mad.'

'Anyway,' said Israel's mother, stubbing out her cigarette. 'I'm just going to have a little rest here. Why don't you two boys run along and enjoy yourselves.'

'Mother!' said Israel.

'Go on!' said Israel's mother. 'I need a lie down for ten minutes. All this excitement has tired me out. Go on! And take the dog with you, Ted, please.'

'Come on then,' said Israel, obediently, stepping away from the van through the crowd, 'let's go and look at the new vehicles shall we, Ted?'

Ted grunted.

'Is that a yes or a no?' said Israel.

'Aye,' said Ted, scooping up Muhammad. 'Show's over!' he announced to the crowd around the van. 'Shoo!' he said, waving them away. 'Go and gape at something else will ye! Go on! Shoo!'

Disgruntled, mumbling mobile librarians shuffled away.

One area of the old airfield was completely given over to companies who had set up little tents and marquees alongside their new demonstration mobile library vans. It was like wandering into a travelling circus.

'Gentlemen. Welcome,' said the salesman on the first vehicle that Ted and Israel approached, a vast white, shiny behemoth of a thing. The salesman wore a black suit and black shirt and black tie.

'You off to a funeral?' said Ted.

'Sssh!' said Israel.

'Sorry?' said the man.

'Can we have a look inside?' said Israel.

'Sorry, gentlemen,' said the man, blocking the doorway to the van, 'No dogs, I'm afraid.'

Ted picked up Muhammad, tucked him under his arm and uncermoniously pushed past the man and into the van.

'Well,' said the salesman, hurrying in after Ted, 'I suppose that's okay.'

'Sorry,' said Israel, following the salesman inside the van. 'It's been a long day.'

'So, gentlemen,' said the salesman, recovering his equilibrium and warming to his sales pitch, 'this model we call the Grande.' He pronounced the word Grand-A.

'The Grand-A?' repeated Israel.

'As in the Starbucks coffee size,' said the salesman, self-amused.

'Right,' said Israel.

'And then we have the SuperGrande, and the Mega-Grande.'

'Okay,' said Israel.

'And as you can see, we take our inspiration very much from top-of-the-range touring vehicles-American Winnebagos and such like.'

'And American high-street coffee shops?' said Israel.

'Right,' said the salesman. 'This is basically a luxury range of vehicles, which we regard very much as the S class of the mobile world.'

'Super?' said Israel.

'What's all this?' said Ted, pointing towards the driver's seat.

'Well, here,' said the salesman, 'in your light and airy cab area, you have two separate heated leather bucket seats, but depending on your requirements, gentlemen, we can also provide crew cab seating with a full second row, or jump seats.'

'Jump seats,' mused Israel.

'What are these?' said Ted, pulling at something above the windows.

'Don't touch!' yelled the salesman. 'Thank you! That's your electric blinds, for privacy.'

'For privacy?'

'And then there's the tinted glass, of course, and the electric sun roof.' The salesman demonstrated.

'Wow!' said Israel.

'Woof!' said Muhammad.

'There's also ambient lighting here in the cab and around the issue desk, for when you want to create a different sort of atmosphere.'

'A different sort of atmosphere,' said Ted, trying to comprehend what he seemed to be hearing. 'A different sort of atmosphere. In a mobile library.'

The salesman continued, regardless of Ted's mumbled provocations.

'Electronic mirrors and storage area above. Transmission control in the driver's arm rest, as you can see. Sat nav…' He talked on.

'Ted, what do you think, though, really?' whispered Israel. 'Isn't it fantastic?'

Ted just stared at him, Ted-like.

'Muhammad, then?' said Israel, looking at the dog. 'Isn't it good, eh?'

Muhammad just stared at him, dog-like.

'That's great,' said Israel, when the seemingly never-ending mini-tour of the van was completed. 'Thanks very much for showing us round.'

'My pleasure, gentlemen,' said the salesman. 'My name's Paul. If you have any queries, do give me a ring. Here's my card.'

'Thanks,' said Israel.

Ted had already walked away.

'Ted!' said Israel, catching up with him. 'Can't you show a bit more enthusiasm?'

'No,' said Ted. 'I can't.'

They arrived at the next demonstration vehicle.

'Hello,' said the saleswoman, from the top of the steps. She seemed to be wearing a uniform designed for an air stewardess. 'Welcome aboard!' she said, as Ted and Israel climbed the steps and entered in. She wore a light blue jacket with a cinched waist and a figure-hugging skirt, with a red silk scarf knotted around her neck and bright red lipstick. 'So!' She sounded German; all she needed was a uniform hat and Ted and Israel might have been stepping aboard a Lufthansa flight preparing for take-off sometime in the early 1970s rather than on a luxury mobile library in a field in the middle of nowhere. 'My name is Alina. Anything I can help you with, please let me know.' Israel felt himself blushing. 'Brochure,' continued Alina, thrusting one into Israel's hands.

'Thanks,' said Israel.

'So, gentlemen, we call this the Mother Ship.'

'Right,' said Israel.

'Ach, Jesus,' moaned Ted.

'Excuse my friend,' said Israel.

'Of course,' said Alina.

'Are you German?' said Israel.

'Polish,' said the woman.

'Right.'

'Cze015Bć,' said Ted.

'You speak Polish?' said the woman.

'You speak Polish?!' said Israel.

'Not really,' said Ted. 'Sure, there's loads of Poles now over in the north. Mrs Onions has a Polish son-in-law.'

'When did you teach yourself Polish?' said Israel, astonished.

'I haven't taught myself Polish, ye eejit. If you just listened a bit more rather than bletherin' on the whole time ye'd pick up things like that as well.'

'Polish!' said Israel. 'I'd pick up Polish?'

'Lovely dog!' enthused Alina, attempting to change the subject, tickling Muhammad under the chin. 'Anyway, on this vehicle, gentlemen, we are taking our inspiration very much from the glory days of travel and the cutting edge of technology.'

'Right,' said Israel, sceptically.

'You will see on entering,' said the woman, 'our light and airy cab area-'

'Another light and airy cab area!' said Israel.

'Sorry?' said Alina.

'Nothing,' said Israel.

'This light and airy cab area is fitted with all the latest technology. Wraparound dash-'

'Has it got sat nav?' said Israel.

'Sat nav obviously comes as standard.'

'Great,' said Israel. 'It's got sat nav, Ted.'

'I've never got lost,' said Ted.

'So we also have full wi-fi connectivity,' continued the woman.

'Great,' said Israel.

'So that customers wishing to use their own laptops can connect wirelessly. And also up front here, gents,' continued Alina, 'we have new very exciting peer-to-peer capability. This has been developed by us, and by Siemens, and BMW, and Deutsche-Telekom, and allows you to pass data on to other motorists, informing them of road traffic problems.'

'In Tumdrum?' said Ted.

'Where is this?' said the woman.

'In Ireland,' said Israel.

'Northern Ireland,' corrected Ted.

'Ah, I'm not sure if this technology is available yet in Ireland,' said the saleswoman. 'I shall check for you.'

'No, it's fine,' said Israel.

'We've seen enough,' said Ted.

'But the interior?' said the woman, gesturing towards the deep recesses of the van.

'Has it got shelves?' said Ted.

'Yes-'

'Good, that'll do then. Do widzenia,' said Ted.

'Na razie,' said the woman.

'Come on,' said Ted.

Israel hurried after Ted as he strode away from the vehicle.

'Ted! Ted! Hold up!'

'Lot of nonsense,' Ted was muttering. 'Peer collectivity.'

'Connectivity,' said Israel. 'Peer-to-peer. It's all Web 2.0 and…stuff. Anyway, I didn't know you spoke Polish. That's amazing.'

'Aye, well,' said Ted.

'You're full of surprises.'

'And ye're full of-'

'Right. Thank you. But seriously, what do you think of them so far?'

'Of what?'

'Of the new vehicles, of course.'

'Not a lot,' said Ted. 'They're not a patch on our van.'

'Oh, come on, Ted. There's no comparsion. And we're going to have to choose a new vehicle.'

'Not if we win the Concourse of Elégance.'

'Ted, we're not going to win the Concours D'Elégance. Certainly not in the state the van's in now.'

'Well…' Ted huffed.

'So you're just going to get used to the fact that we're going to have to choose a new vehicle.'

'I'll look at one more,' said Ted, 'but then that's it. I've had enough.'

'Fine,' said Israel.

They walked on to the next demonstration vehicle.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen,' intoned the salesman standing in the light and airy cab area. He was a man fat and bald enough to be described not unfairly as a fat and bald man. Israel and Ted automatically reached out for and were automatically given the obligatory thick glossy brochures.

'Who are ye, then?' said Ted.

'We're Access Engineering, based in Birmingham, and we call this our Double D, for obvious reasons.'

'It's a beer?' said Ted.

'No,' said the salesman. 'It's a double decker.'

'Is it, really?' said Israel. 'Brilliant. I didn't even notice outside. Can we go upstairs?'

'Upstairs?' said Ted. 'In a mobile library? God save us.'

'This is very much a new concept in mobile learning centres,' said the salesman, leading the way, tightly, up a narrow staircase. Ted and Israel followed. They emerged into a small room set out with half a dozen chairs and a projector screen.

'So this is the Double D conference and screening room, which is fully networked.'

'Wow,' said Israel. 'Couldn't you see us in one of these though, Ted. Eh? Tootling around Tumdrum?'

'This area can also be used as a café-' said the salesman.

'I told you some of these new models had cafés!' said Israel.

'Or alternatively as a multi-purpose break-out space.'

'A what?' said Ted.

'A training centre,' continued the salesman. 'Or perhaps as a dedicated children's area.'

'What, here?' said Ted.

'Yes,' said the salesman.

'Upstairs?'

'Yes.'

'How are all the mums going to get their buggies up and down the stairs?' said Ted.

'He's got a point,' said Israel.

'Thank you, gents,' said the salesman, spying other people coming up the stairs. 'Are you currently in the market for a new mobile vehicle?'

'Yes,' said Israel defensively. 'We are.'

'And how much do these cost?' asked Ted.

'This particular vehicle, gentlemen, which is the Double D number 3, at this sort of spec, starts at around one hundred and twenty thousand pounds.'

'How much?' said Ted.

'What's the budget Linda's working on?' said Israel.

'About a tenth of that,' said Ted.

'Thanks for your time, then, gentlemen,' said the salesman, realising that with Ted and Israel he was dealing with bona fide twenty-four-carat time-wasters. He ushered them briskly back towards the stairs.

'One more,' said Israel, as they stepped outside.

'Ye said the last one was the last one,' said Ted.

'Yes, but, you're enjoying it really, aren't you? Be honest?'

'No,' said Ted.

'Woof!' said Muhammad.

'All right,' said Ted.

'Hi!' said the salesman on the steps of the next vehicle. He wasn't wearing a suit or tie. He was wearing jeans, and sandals, and a T-shirt which read GREENOLOGY™.

'Hi,' said Israel.

'Hi,' repeated the T-shirted man. 'I'm Steve, from Greenology Coach Builders in Bristol.' Steve from Greenology Coach Builders in Bristol spoke with an inflection which made every statement sound like a question. 'We call this our EnviroMobile?'

'Would that be because it's environmentally friendly?' said Israel.

'Yes?' said Steve, inflectingly.

'Environmentally friendly?' said Ted. 'A thirty-foot mobile vehicle?'

'We're the country's first environmentally friendly coach builders? We're totally different from anyone else out there in the market at the moment? Come inside and see?' said Steve. 'You'll notice straightaway this light-'

'And airy cab area?' said Israel.

'That's right?' said Steve. 'Up above this light and airy cab area there are small roof-mounted solar panels, which obviously contribute to reducing your carbon footprint?'

Ted sighed.

'Every little helps,' said Israel.

'The vehicle runs on bio-fuel, obviously?' said Steve.

'We mostly run on red diesel,' said Ted.

'And this is an all-round low emission vehicle, without going all the way to a hybrid?'

'Great,' said Israel.

'And you'd have noticed from the outside that it's streamlined, to minimise fuel consumption, and that inside here we have a low allergy-risk interior?'

'Ugh,' said Ted.

'You okay?' said Steve.

'I feel sick,' said Ted. 'It must be the…what did ye call it?'

'Low allergy-risk interior?'

'That'd be it. Excuse me.'

'Ted!' said Israel, as they made their way back to the van.

'Hippies,' said Ted. 'Weirdoes. Conmen'

'They're only doing their job,' said Israel.

'Well, they can do their job with someone else,' said Ted. 'I'm not buying a new van from any of these shysters.'

'We don't say "shysters", Ted.'

'We don't?'

'No, of course we don't.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's…can be construed as anti-Semitic.'

'Ach, Israel, don't get me started again on all that PC World stuff again, I've had enough for one day.'

'It's PC, Ted. Politically correct. PC World's a shop.'

'Aye. One of me cousins bought a computer there up in Derry. Had to take it back. It was the wrong one. Bunch of shysters.'

'Ted!'

Back at the van the judges had arrived and they were standing among the crowd, gazing at the daubings.

'Ach,' said Ted.

'Oh God,' said Israel.

There were four judges: a woman who was about double the width of an average woman, and half the height, and who wore half-moon glasses, and who dressed all in brown, in a brown shawl, and a long brown skirt, and brown boots and a contrasting bright pink pashmina; and another woman, taller, thin, with her hair cut in a frightening bob; and a young man in a leather jacket and jeans, with a shaven head and a T-shirt that read BOOK LUST; and another man, middle-aged, in a suit with a pink pin-striped shirt and a thick turquoise silk tie.

'Are these the judges?' whispered Ted to Israel as they approached the van.

'I fear so,' said Israel.

'God help us.'

'Ah, here they are!' said Israel's mother, with some relief. 'Just in time! Israel, Ted. These are the judges. The chairman of the judges-'

'Chair, please,' said the little wide woman. 'Do I look like a man?'

'Well-' began Israel's mother.

'Ooh,' the scary bob lady was saying, fingering one of the swirling rainbow patterns on the van, 'this is nice. I like this.' She was wearing a Little Red Riding Hood sort of coat, with a hood. '"The Odyssey", that's a very good name for a mobile library, isn't it? Very inventive.'

'And is that an Eye of Horus round the front, above the cab?' asked the shaven-headed judge.

'Yes, I'm afraid so,' said Israel. 'But if I could just explain what's happened-'

'No need,' said the short little lady, waving her hand in dismissal, not even bothering to look round. 'It's perfectly clear.'

She pursed her lips and started to move around the van, peering at the paintwork, scribbling notes on forms attached to a clipboard.

'No,' said Israel, 'you see-'

'I see, thank you, I see,' murmured the woman, marking her forms. 'I. See.'

'It's unique, this is,' the bob lady was saying, also making notes on a clipboard, following in the shorter woman's considerable wake.

'That's one way of putting it,' said the little woman.

'It's not very modern, is it?' said the leather-jacketed man. 'Not really.' Israel couldn't quite see if the man was marking ticks or crosses on his sheet.

'That's its appeal though, isn't it?' said the bob lady. 'It's retro.'

'It's certainly a period piece,' said the man in the suit.

'Excuse me?' said Israel, peering over their shoulders.

'It may be a period piece,' said the little lady. 'But which period exactly? The Dark Ages? The 1960s?'

'I think it's very unusual,' said the bob lady.

'If you like that sort of thing,' said the little lady.

'I do.'

'Well, I'm not impressed I'm afraid.'

'It's interesting, you've got to grant it that,' said the suited man. 'We've nothing like this in Darlington.'

'Well, do please let me explain-' began Israel, who was circling the van with them.

'It's all right,' said the woman. 'I can see what this is.'

'Yes,' said Israel, 'it's-'

'A labour of love,' said Israel's mother, who was circling also. 'That's what it is. They've worked very hard on this.'

'Good,' said the suited man patronisingly. 'Good. Well done you.'

'I don't care how hard they've worked on it,' said the little lady, tapping her clipboard. 'We've criteria to meet.'

'And I suppose imagination is not one of your criteria?' said Israel's mother.

'Certainly not,' said the little lady.

'Which is a shame, because that's exactly what you lot need, isn't it?'

'Is it?' said the little lady fiercely.

'Yes! Look around you,' said Israel's mother, using her always expressive hand gestures to great rhetorical effect. 'Everything else here looks exactly the same-horrible, municipal. White, yellow. Boring, boring, boring. But this, though, the…Odyssey…is completely unique.'

'You've certainly got people talking,' said the suited man. 'I'll grant you that.'

'She's right,' said the shaven-headed young man.

'And who are you, so keen on special pleading?' said the little lady, fixing her gaze on Israel's mother. 'Somebody's mother?'

'No!' said Israel.

'Yes!' said Israel's mother.

The little lady fixed both Israel and his mother with a withering stare and moved on round silently. Israel could see her marking thick black crosses on her clipboard.

Inside the van things got worse.

'There's not a lot of storage,' said the little lady, making another furious cross on her notes.

'But it's so cosy,' said the bob lady.

'Cosy is not a criteria,' said the little lady.

'Well, perhaps it should be,' said Israel's mother.

'Please, madam,' said the little lady. 'We are trying to concentrate here.'

'Sorry,' said Israel.

'Don't apologise on my behalf!' said Israel's mother.

'I'm not!'

'Yes you are.'

'Please!' said the little lady. 'I shall have to bar you from the competition if this sort of behaviour continues. It is not the sort of thing we expect at all at the Mobile Meet.'

'Don't ye talk to her like that!' said Ted.

'I shall talk to her however I wish, sir!'

'Not on my van, you won't, you rude bisim,' said Ted. 'That's it. Get off! Get out of here! Go on!'

'Ted!' said Israel. 'Don't upset her! Sorry,' he said to the judges. 'Ted, what about the Concours D'Elégance?'

'Ach, they know where they can stick their prizes. Go on, get off, the lot of ye.'

'And take your clipboards with you!' added Israel's mother, unnecessarily, as the judges, cowed and shocked, hurried off the van.

'Oh God,' said Israel.

Israel could hear the judges as they walked away from the van through the crowds.

'Well!' the little lady was saying, again and again. 'Well! Outrageous!'

'They're certainly a wild card,' the suited man was saying.

'Banned,' the little lady was saying. 'Barred! In all my…'

'The van had character though,' the bob lady was saying.

'Bunch of outlaws!'

'Well, that went well,' said Israel's mother.

'I don't think we've got much chance of winning anything now,' said Israel. 'We might as well go.'

'Nonsense,' said Israel's mother. 'We've come all this way. We'll stay to the prize giving. They're not running us out of town.'

'Woof!' said Muhammad.

'Fair play to ye,' said Ted. 'Ye've some spirit, girl.'

'I like to think so,' said Israel's mother. 'You too,' she said, giving Ted a wink.

'All right, knock it off you two, will you?' said Israel.

When the prizes were eventually awarded, in the Nissen hut some hours later, Ted and Israel did not, needless to say, win the prize for State-of-the-Art Vehicle. Or the prize for Best Livery. Or indeed the Driver's Challenge, presented in memory of Noah Stanley, although Ted felt pretty confident that if he'd been there in time he'd have stood a good chance.

And the prize for Concours D'Elégance?…

Went to a van from Bexley with a Maisie the Mouse painted on the side.

'Stitch up,' whispered Israel's mother. 'Bloody bitch.'

'I owe you,' huffed Ted. 'One thousand-'

'I think we'll call it quits,' said Israel.

'And now,' announced the chairman-chair, rather-of the judges, the little brown-and-pink-pashmina-wearing woman with her half-moon glasses perched halfway down her nose, 'we come to the most hotly contested-and often the most controversial-prize, the Delegates Choice. I think you'll agree, we've had-on the whole-a very good turnout this year, and as always there have been so many different vans that are all so distinctive. But the ballot papers are in, they have been counted, I have the result here'-she waved a brown envelope-'and I can tell you that…' And she paused for a moment to open the envelope and then paused again as she read the result, catching her breath. 'We…Ahem…Well…We have an unprecedented unanimous decision by you, the delegates. I think we can certainly all agree that…none of us has ever seen a mobile library anything quite…like it. So, for…originality…the prize this year is awarded to…to our colleagues from across the water in Ireland-'

'Northern Ireland!' yelled Ted. 'We're not Brazil, we're Northern Ireland! Yes!'

'Northern Ireland,' said the little woman, who seemed close to tears. 'Ted Carson and Israel Armstrong, and-'

'His mother!' said Ted.

'-and their…mobile library from Tumdrum.'

'The Delegates' Choice!' said Ted.

Israel hugged his mother. Ted hugged Israel's mother. Israel hugged Ted, almost, and then thought better of it.

And as they got up, triumphant, and walked forward to collect the prize the doors to the Nissen hut burst open and in walked Stones and Bree, closely followed by a dozen armed police officers.