Editors Letter – ‘At least there are no tourists’

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] recently took a trip to LSE’s library to start one of my essays. It’s a grand building – you walk to it through a small alleyway just off of The Strand. You’re surrounded by tall Hogwart-sian towers jutting out from the buildings around you.

Inside looks like a combination of a business-class airport lounge and the Guggenheim Museum – think clean lines and superfluous curves. I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Even the security man at the desk has the pres­ence, charisma and looks of James Earl Jones.

Even the security man at the desk has the pres­ence, charisma and looks of James Earl Jones.

Warwick’s library is perhaps the most useful building on our campus, and it’s not even too bad looking on the inside, but it doesn’t have half the impact – it’s just very adequate. Our coffee shop is nice, but can’t com­pare to being able to walk outside to the sights and sounds of central London.

Efforts have been made though, and our library is full of modern technologies such as the ‘print wherever you want to’ printers and the totally revolutionary art piece that is a Christmas tree made out of books and tinsel. However, we do get an extra two hours of open library each day – we can access it till midnight, rather than 10pm.

However, we do get an extra two hours of open library each day – we can access it till midnight, rather than 10pm.

And that’s on top of our friendly, yet suspiciously ever-present, huddle of free-education protesters handing out scrap paper for your reading notes.

So, I walk past LSE’s security man, holding back my plethora of witty Star Wars references. Pret A Manger croissant in hand, I climb up the wide spiraling staircases, past computer clusters and group study areas, all full. Understandable, as LSE students are notoriously hard-working. I reach the top floor and find a little section of only a few desks, with ‘LSE students only’ written on the door.

Understandable, as LSE students are notoriously hard-working.

`What?’ I thought to myself ‘This tiny area on the top floor is the only space just for their students?’ I was astonished. All these floors of computers, stylish bean bags and pieces of shiny artwork were shared with the public, more or less. I suddenly felt so much more fond of our quiet little Warwick Uni library.

No thousands of outside students ech­oing around an unnecessarily artistically pleasing (yet impractical) building. No groups of tourists blocking your walk home. No queues for checking out or returning books. I’ve never been so glad to get back to our middle-of-nowhere cam­pus.