Why aren’t librarians telling people to shoosh any more?

It conjures up images of boffins, slide rules, test tubes and wall charts. Research. Whether it’s political research, scientific research or just putting the word Google in the top bar on your screen, it is a bit geeky. It’s also a bit cool to use a search engine compared to hours of pestering Stornoway librarians on which are the best books about Kilimanjaro.

They sometimes did not have to find the books. Are you sure it is in Tanzania and not Tasmania? You sure it is made up of three volcanoes and one is only sleeping while the others are dead? Wow.

These dedicated servants of the inquisitive are a walking, talking national resource which is now unused. I wonder if that is why students say libraries are getting noisier and they are unable to study there.

Is it because the Google effect means librarians have more time to have a natter with colleagues and users? Are they not shooshing loud offenders in case they too stop coming in?

Either way, students tell me the volume of library chatter nowadays is ridiculous and is chasing them away.

I was chased away last weekend and ended up at an informal get-together in my former home village of Tobson on the golden island of Great Bernera. Who came in but the young singer, Niamh Smith? She sings like a lark and plays guitar and, wait till you hear this, she is only . . . 12. I have slippers that are older than her.

Look up Niamh Smith on YouTube. When I was that age the only talent I had was making rude noises under my arm. Tobson has changed.

She does The House That Built Me, which a few years ago went to Number 1 in the US country charts for country singer Miranda Lambert.

Niamh gave us renditions of songs, some going back to the 1960s. She gave us Sloop John B, first popularly recorded in the 1950s by the Kingston Trio. Of course, everyone prefers the Beach Boys version a decade later even though Johnny Cash and many others had a decent try.

“So hoist up the John B's sail, see how the mainsail sets; Call for the captain ashore, let me go home, let me go home.”

I was home. I just wept. Water, water everywhere and not a Kleenex to be found. When you’ve had a dram or two, these lyrics come into your brain automatically. No research needed. To those distinguished names who have hoisted the John B’s sail, you may now add Niamh Smith from Tobson, that scenic village full of lovely, talented people by An t-Ob.

Those who don’t do research properly can regret it. I am thinking of the Children of the Atom. That new quirkily- named political party was due to relaunch by announcing their candidate in the Western Isles to fight the general election. They planned to replace income tax with a 10% tax on people’s bank deposits. The rich would pay the most and the poorest in society would pay, well, pretty much nothing at all. I could vote for that. Then they said every citizen, including children, would be paid an average wage of about £27,600 a year for life. Yep, I could vote for that too. Come on, what else?

But the atomists wanted families to be fined for having too many babies. As a father of one who has heard of the theory that if you cannot afford to buy for seven what you would give one child, then your kids will be scarred for life, I can see some people nodding sagely at the prospect of population reduction. You know what? They didn’t do their research. I can just hear the Free Presbyterians and the Roman Catholics, both in the Hebrides and often commented on for their large families, roaring: “You cannot be serious.”

We know it works elsewhere. However, what works

“These dedicated servants of the inquisitive are a walking, talking national resource which is now unused. I wonder if that is why students say libraries are getting noisier

in the People’s Republic of China may not work in the People’s Republic of Castlebay. Sadly, for those who thought we were actually going to have an interesting election, according to some news reports COTA have cancelled their bid to achieve world domination from their HQ in Point.

Mrs X was shouting at me recently to do some research myself. Before going out to the shops, she shouted up the stairs to my office: “I want you to find out why my computer is so slow. And what do you want for your dinner?” One thing at a time, I thought to myself. After careful investigation I shouted back: “Lack of RAM.” She didn’t quite understand but at least I enjoyed my dinner of rack of lamb.

Iain Maciver