Imagine it. A night to yourself. The luxury of pleasing yourself.
Piles of books stand attentive – you can dip in for a paddle or wallow for hours. There are no children, no housework, nothing else to do. When you’re peckish, there’s a coffee shop. You might have to help yourself, but that’s OK.
That’s the situation American tourist David Wills found himself in the other night. He got himself left behind in a London branch of Waterstones after closing time.
But instead of just offering a prayer of gratitude and working his way from self-help to poetry via a look at the pictures in the biographies (you know how they end after all) he logged in to Twitter. Following the equivalent of rattling the door and yelling, soon the Internet was on the wedge of its seat over his plight. Would he be rescued soon?
Two hours later and he was liberated from his literary lock in.
Buy my question was different: What was wrong with this man?
In his shoes, I’d have relaxed knowing someone would turn up in the morning. Until then I had the place to myself, deliciously alone.
In fact, Waterstones (and their colleagues) would be missing a trick if they don’t start offering this service. Bookshop nights: sleeping bags and a Thermos of tea extra. It’d be a best seller, without a doubt.