The Little Free Library

has been vandalised again.
Last time it was thrown in the river. This time they tried to burn it. 
    "We went down there to return a book and borrow another one and they've wrecked it again. E.... won't stop crying about it," one of the mothers phoned me.
I could hear E... in the background crying, "I  hate them! I hate them! They are....and when I get them...."
The Little Free Library is just what it sounds as if it is. It is a tiny, tiny structure in a play area in a park. It has books for children to borrow and return on an honesty basis and, apart from the vandalism, it has been a huge success. 
I know the person who set it up is now trying to repair the damage. Apparently she has cleaned it out and a few books have been placed in there but it isn't the same.
The trauma the vandalism has caused the children who use the library has undoubtedly been immense. For E... it is a treat to go to the little park, play for a bit and borrow a book. Her father has been in the hospice for several weeks now. E...'s mother is struggling and the time they were spending in the park was as much relaxation for her as her two small children. It is something they could do which cost nothing. 
Her mother had  told me all this while we were waiting to each see a dentist. She told me her husband liked to read too but she didn't like to borrow books in case she didn't manage to return them. He has read those on offer in the hospice or they aren't to his taste.  I offered to get several to her through someone I know. They were simply sitting there waiting for me to have time to take them to the charity shop. I knew the person who had given them to me would be more than happy for them to go to him instead.
With all that she has to worry about she had rung me to thank me for the books to take to her husband. I know and he knows he is unlikely to get to the end of three books but at least I could give him a choice. 
It is a choice E... did not have and that makes me furious.