Small Plays About My Day

… tiny true dramas in a Charing Cross Road bookshop

Who’s Who

Posted on | October 4, 2009 | 1 Comment

Red-faced man:I’m looking for a 1945 Who’s Who. I had a copy of it myself, but it disappeared.
Emily: Oh dear.
Red-faced man: Just disappeared. Not stolen. It was there one evening and the next morning it was gone. There was no break-in, all the windows and doors were locked.
Emily: How strange.
Red-faced man: My house has very creaky stairs, and the Who’s Who was upstairs, and my wife is a light sleeper, and so she would have heard anyone coming in to the house in the night. But it was gone in the morning. And they’re not valuable, are they?
Emily: Not very, no.
Red-faced man: So, there you go. Disappeared.
Emily: Very odd.
Red-faced man: Yes, well that happens sometimes. I’ve had it happen to two other books.
Emily: Leave us your name and number. If it appears here we can give you a call.


One Response to “Who’s Who”

  1. Small Plays
    July 1st, 2010 @ 10:50 pm

    The red-faced man came into the shop again today. We had this conversation, pretty much word for word, again. It was like an encore.

    Except that he finished it with:

    “I started to wonder about things that float through walls. I shouldn’t have though, should I? Because they don’t, normally.”

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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