The lifts at the British Library had a terrible reputation. They could be crowded, smelly and airless, and it was said that you could suffocate from a lack of oxygen if you were unlucky enough to travel all the way up to eighth floor on a busy day.

I felt perfectly safe on the day that I braved the lift. This was because former British Library employee AM was looking after me. She knew all the tricks to guarantee a smooth passage up the building. These include how to: (1) fool the man on the ticket desk that we had return tickets (we’d only paid for singles); (2) store our left luggage free of charge; and (3) negotiate a bonus ride across the causeway to Holy Island as the tide was coming in.

Of course we both took our cameras on the trip. The whole adventure was planned to capture content for our Blipfoto journals.