A Single Man

Even from my earliest days at University I have never been under any illusion that the library is a place of rigorous academic pursuit. There is only one rigorous activity that takes place in the library and that is schweffing. It is the ideal setting for the stalking of potential schweffage; we all frequent the library at some stage (granted, some more than others). Those regulars we “always see in the library” will be receiving a First in the art of the rigorous pursuit of the non-academic kind. And I’m hoping for Highest Mark of the Year.

The furtive glances across the computer screens as you incessantly search SAULCAT for the book that you somehow cannot find; finding yourself in the library stacks for Arabic even though you’re a Geography student; the unnecessary trip to the toilet, or even worse, the water fountain. These are prowling activities we are all guilty of.

To be honest, I lament the loss of the wide open space of the ground floor. The play pen will forever live in our hearts. All this compartmentalisation makes the schweff a lot trickier. Gone are the days of being able to scan the entire ground floor from a well-chosen location. I personally preferred the seats close to the front door where you could see everybody who walked in. To some this may appear vaguely stalkerish but when the schweff is involved, there is no limit. The new foyer is simply ridiculous. Sofas that face an unnecessary television screen rather than the front door? You can take the schweff out of the library but you can’t take the library out of the schweff.

I will admit to quite liking the glass box that is the short loan department. It’s almost like a show-case for the schweff. Deliciously voyeuristic. The bookshelves are also closer together allowing for greater intimacy. Moreover, in their defence, at least they had the decency to leave levels three and four to “simmer” over the next year. The silent zones are indeed simmering hotbeds of sexual repression for bored third and fourth years. While the staircase was initially difficult to locate, it remains a melting pot of book-carrying, satchel-straddling schweffers. This may be outrageous, but I may even go so far as to say that the new mauve carpet creates a sensual undertone that our old mustard friend just didn’t provide.

The potential for schweffing in the new café is yet to be decided. Will the possibility of suggesting a “study break” down in 1413 ever become a reality? I would like to hope that those stealthy stares as you patiently wait by the printer can one day be exchanged for a cheeky suggestion of a coffee from a paper cup. But is actual schweffing in the library a step too far? We all (yes, all) hold secret fantasies of schweffing encounters in the photocopier room on level four during revision periods whilst experiencing heightened sexual tension. For those seeking a First Class Honours, go forth.

Written by A Single Man, understand writer