"Been hiding out and laying low, it's nuthin' new to me"

So said W. Axel Rose, a man who could smoke a cigarette with style. But, he didn't worry 'bout nuthin,' 'cause worry's a waste of his time. Well, worry or no, I've heard a few stories of late that could bend your bones. And, since Old Ken has not only received a request for tell of his persecution by Senate House Library but was given these disturbing photographs of a friend who was attacked by a day (i.e. yesterday), I think it's only right to have a few things out.

Where to begin? Well, I'll leave you hanging (appropriately enough) on the matter of my attack by Senate House Library and set the mood with a discussion of these photographs. Basically, what I can reconstruct is this: a friend of mine, and let's call him "Dale", has some things that he has to do. He knows that he has to do them and that he will feel better about things once he has done them (which he will); yet, it's painful going. Now, on top of that, he has some pretty strict deadlines for all this stuff—deadlines that really can't be altered.

So, yesterday he sets out for the city to work on some of these tasks. He is making a bit of progress when—bang!—the day attacks him! He opens an email to find that the venue he thinks he has booked for an upcoming conference he is organizing has been accidentally reserved for a week later, and the desired date is no longer available. As you can see from the photograph above, this blow breaks his nose, slices off his top lip and part of his scalp.

Shaken, bloodied, but determined to carry on, "Dale" then gets a cup of coffee. He wants to take it into a quiet gallery space so that he can sit and work. But, distracted by his wounds, his judgment lapses and he decides it would be a good idea to put his coffee in his bag. Bang! Day attacks again!




Completely unsurprisingly to anyone whose vision is not clouded by a thick skein of blood, Dale's coffee completely spills in his bag, soaking all the contents—including some electrical equipment. Simultaneously, as you can see in the photograph above, giant metal retractors shoot into Dale's abdomen and day attacks him with a knife. While some of these wounds subsequently heal a bit, once he gets home and receives an email affirming that the clerical error behind the room-booking shenanigans had been rectified. Yet, the damage was done.

All of this is strangely reminiscent of mine own attack by Senate House Library. Have you ever been there? A wretched place. They've long ago run out of shelf space, so have begun piling books on the floor. Idiotically, the library "begins" on the fourth floor (or fifth floor, US-style) and, despite the fact that the library serves the entire 29-university wide University of London community, there are only two elevators. Now, walking five flights of stairs every time one wants to go to the library seems like a minor detail if one is relatively young and fit. But, if one is older, sick, or (say) carrying a whole bunch of books, one would imagine that it begins to be a real drag.

So much for Old Ken's rant. As for the attack: well, one day I was leaving the library. The elevator down was nowhere to be seen and, anyway, the long queue in front of me would have meant that I couldn't have gotten on even if I waited. So I decided to just take the stairs. The stairs are marble with an intermediate landing between floors. Like a spiral staircase, they have an open "column" down the center such that one can look down from the fifth floor to the basement far below. Well, anyone I started briskly jogging down the stairs and the Library tripped me and tried to throw me over the edge into this open abyss. I was literally about halfway over before I could brace myself on the handrail and wriggle back over. It was really frightening.

Ironically enough, though, Old Ken somehow got onto a mailing list for the "Friends of the Senate House Library." They sent out a survey soliciting opinion on how to improve the place. My suggestions were simple: raze the building and burn the rubble!