Librarians are the patron saints of hushed tones. But on a grey December morning in King’s Cross, the striking staff of the British Library are making a racket. Outside the entrance to the red brick library, around 130 employees chant in unison, blow on brightly coloured plastic horns and cheer when passing drivers honk in support. Money, Money, Money by ABBA blasts out of a surprisingly powerful portable speaker.
Yet beneath the jovial atmosphere is a sense of profound exasperation. “I don’t want to be out here dancing on a picket line. I want to be in there, doing my job, and getting a decent wage for it,” says one library assistant.
