Small Plays About My Day

… tiny true dramas in a Charing Cross Road bookshop

Rokeham

Posted on | March 14, 2010 | No Comments

Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man: You have Rokeham?
Emily: I’m sorry, what was that?
Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man: Rokeham? You have?
Emily: Rokeham?
Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man: No, Rokeham.
Emily: I’m sorry, I don’t recognise the name, what kind of subject is that?
Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man:
Rokeham.
Emily:(Handing tiny white-haired wizened Indian man a pen and paper) Could you write it down, perhaps?
( Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man writes intently.)
Emily: Pokémon?
Tiny white-haired wizened Indian man: Yes.

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  • "In a town like London there are always plenty of not quite certifiable lunatics walking the streets, and they tend to gravitate towards bookshops, because a bookshop is one of the few places where you can hang about for a long time without spending any money."
    George Orwell