Dog Days
T2007960902
'Not a bad trade today. Two before noon... I'm sure it's happened before, but not so recently that 'I can remember. Names, faces, they fade after a while. That, or they blur into one.' Tightly wrapped up in blankets a tramp sits alone in an underpass, a dog lead in one hand, and a cold sausage roll in the other. Drifting between sleep and consciousness, he peers out from under his eye-mask, waiting. He tells himself, and anyone who will listen, that he won't be alone for long.
Archive :: production:T2007960902, play:S0731477383, venue:V0707367604
Production details
The final instalment in 'The Spring of 1945', a season of new writing at the Alma Tavern, presented by 1945 Productions.
