We all know that libraries are our future, that librarians are pitched into battle on the frontline in the war for the imagination, but libraries aren't just about the big picture. With National Libraries Day hoving into view on Saturday, I'd like to tell you about my local library. Because Queen's Park Library on Harrow Road is just brilliant.

Here it is. It may not be one of the world's most beautiful libraries, but I love it. First, because for over three years, it has been an absolute life saver when trying to find something to do with a small child. We'd go probably twice a week, to choose another huge armload of picture books, and to take part in the regular singalongs put on by the fabulous, friendly staff there (hi Jonno). There's a lot of talk about depleted book stock in libraries: not here. The kids' books are refreshed regularly, with lots of brand new titles added on what seemed like a weekly basis, along with seasonal displays, chairs which turn into rocking horses when you tip them over, and a box of toys.

Second, because its adult fiction selection isn't half bad either. I'd have thought I'd have had enough to read at home already, given my day job, but it turns out I find the library invaluable. I use it for relaxation reading - all those books I wouldn't want to own, but which are wonderful to sink into after a tiring day, and which are nothing to do with work. Thrillers. Chick lit. A shelf's worth of Agatha Christie. Ruth Rendell. Bliss.

Third, because the staff are just so nice there. I need a picture book of The Wind in the Willows, I said. (There were reasons.) We trawled together through hundreds of piled-up titles to find the one they were sure they had.

I'm in Norway at the moment, where I was amazed to discover my local library has a small English-language section. But you have to be really quiet in there – tough with a three-year-old – and there are no singalongs. I'm missing Queen's Park library immensely – with all those terrifying figures about closures, I only hope it's still thriving when I get back.