The theme for this week is Libraries Change Lives.

This is one account of a life-changing event.

The tale I shall relate will seem quite unvelievable; but believe me, the events are as credible as some others we are asked to believe.

Many years ago, when I was a very young boy, I spent Christmas at my grandfather's estate in the south of Ireland.

Grandfather owned huge tracts of land and was extremely wealthy and influential. But it is not the immense, rambling country house and its treasures, nor the plenitude of servants and house guests that I remember about that Christmas.

Being a shy child, I retreated from the noisy gathering to the solitude of the house's impressive library. There I sat, surrounded by high walls covered in the glorious leather bindings of thousands of valuable books.

I welcomed the opportunity to sit in front of the warm, comforting fireplace as outside, a fierce storm raged. The cosiness of the room must have cuased me to fall asleep, for I woke with a start when I heard someone enter the room.

A tall, good-looking man, with sparkling eyes and a moustache that twitched when he smiled came towards me. He knew who I was even though I was sure I had never met him. He introduced himself as my great-uncle Clarence, of whom I had never heard.

He started telling me about how, when he was a boy, the library was his favourite room. He used to sit on his beloved mother's lap while she read him stories of fabulous places and strange people, of daring deeds and brave adventures, and of giants and magicians and heroes and monsters.

On nights such as this one, she would comfort him by singing songs and lullabies. Her sweet voice would ease his fears and soothe him into sleep. As he grew older, he discovered for himself the wonders the library contained.

He read books on travel and history, on anthropology and the physical sciences, on languages and literature and warfare and love.

Great-uncle Clarence acquired so much knowledge that was to prove invaluable in later life. This knowledge helped extricate him from many a precarious situation.

We talked for hours about books and reading, and the joys of this solitary pursuit, before I must have dozed off. I was awakened by my grandfather's vigorous shaking.

Grandfather refused to listen to me when I told him of my visitor. Clarence was a scoundrel who had been banished from the household many years ago, and was believed to have died in the wilds of Borneo. Grandfather said I had been dreaming, but I knew otherwise.

My persistence gained me nothing but a thrashing and being sent to bed wihthout so much as a bowl of gruel. As I relflect now, I realise that I might have gone to bed hungry, but I had instilled in me an appetite for books and knowledge that has endured; and a belief that the cheapest and most enduring gift for a child is to be given access to a good library.