Recorded with due astonishment at Inspire, Kirkby in Ashfield Library, which endured the proceedings with bookish fortitude and only mild alarm

On the thirty‑first day of March in the year two thousand and twenty‑six, at precisely half past twelve in the afternoon, a most diverting assembly gathered within the bustling yet faintly bewildered confines of Inspire, Kirkby in Ashfield Library. The Spring Faire was in full flourish — tables laden with crafts, cakes, and curiosities — and the building, accustomed to quiet contemplation, seemed to brace itself for the imminent arrival of choral exuberance.

The choir, undeterred by the library’s polite disapproval, arranged themselves with admirable confidence. Choir Director Alison Wooley, ever serene and masterful, presided with the calm authority of a woman who could silence even the most unruly encyclopaedia. Under her guidance, the ensemble embarked upon a half‑hour musical display so spirited that several shelves appeared to quiver, whether from admiration or existential dread it was difficult to determine. Voices rose, confidence blossomed, and decorum was — for a brief and glorious interval — entirely optional. The musical programme, bold from the very first note, unfolded as follows:

It’s Raining Men A fearless opening declaration of intent — exuberant, unapologetic, and guaranteed to awaken any unsuspecting browsers within a three‑aisle radius. A biography of Queen Victoria trembled noticeably.

Gospel Medley A rousing follow‑up, lifting spirits heavenward and setting the tone for joy, unity, and enthusiastic participation. Even the shadows along the local history section leaned forward, intrigued.

Deep Down in My Soul Performed with such conviction that several souls were undeniably stirred, whether they had planned to be or not. A dictionary fluttered open in what may have been approval.

Hey Mr Miller Lively, cheeky, and brimming with bounce — executed by a choir clearly enjoying every moment. A nearby atlas shifted an inch, possibly attempting to tap its corner in time.

Spirit in the Sky Clapping ensued, voices soared, and one could almost sense celestial approval drifting quietly between the shelves. The shadows pretended not to be moved, but their edges softened.

Walking on Sunshine Pure optimism set to music — bright, infectious, and quite impossible to resist. The library lights brightened in protest, as though fearing such cheerfulness might become contagious.

Count on Me A heartfelt interlude of togetherness, reassurance, and mutual trust, delivered with warmth and sincerity. Even the encyclopaedias, notoriously stoic, seemed to relax.

Dancing Queen A triumphant conclusion, proving beyond doubt that grace, glamour, and a strong sense of rhythm can flourish splendidly at lunchtime. A romance novel fell over in excitement.

The assembly concluded in the highest of spirits, leaving behind echoes of laughter, melody, and mild disbelief that such revelry had occurred in a library — and during the Spring Faire, no less. The shadows withdrew to their usual corners, the shelves resettled themselves with prim composure, and the building released a soft, resigned sigh. Society, one hopes, will endure