Small Plays About My Day

… tiny true dramas in a Charing Cross Road bookshop

Sea Stories

Posted on | January 9, 2010 | No Comments

Man in Denim Jacket: Ah, hello, yes, you’ve got a book in the window, it’s called, um… it’s …
Emily: Which window is it in?
Man in Denim Jacket: What was it called now …
Emily: It’s easiest if you tell me which window it’s in, then I can get it for you.
Man in Denim Jacket: It was something about the sea. Sea Stories, that was it.
Emily: Right, I don’t know the book, so if you just tell me where it is in the window…
Man in Denim Jacket: Oh I know where it is. It’s here.
Emily: This one?
Man in Denim Jacket: No.
Emily: Maybe if you go outside and point to it, then I can find it.
Man in Denim Jacket: Oh it’s this one. No, that’s not it. It was called Sea Stories.
Emily: If you point to it from outside…
Man in Denim Jacket: I’ll point to it from outside.
(Exit man in denim jacket. Pause. Enter man in denim jacket.)
Emily: You didn’t point to it.
Man in Denim Jacket: It’s that one.
Emily: Spa Towns of England?
Man in Denim Jacket: Yes, I’ll take it.
Emily: Right.
Man in Denim Jacket: I was thinking of Bath Spa. Bath water. Sea water. It’s funny, I’m usually good with words.


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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