Reading at The Broadway

Okay, so I realized that for those of you who don't live in Nottingham, you won't know what the words appearing on the glass front of Broadway are (the words what I wrote, that is). So, far be it from me to self-publicize, I reproduce them here:


Reading At Broadway by Richard Pilgrim

This is The Broadway, where people come to read. Not in a bored way, in any way at all, but in an enthralled way, and people are called away, called here to open book and paper, and to read ♦ Like the massing herds of wildebeest that gather at the water, we are drawn into the swirling vortex of education, information, scintillation, mastication, relaxation, celebration, fascination – it's all here at The Broadway ♦ What kind of things can be read? What kind of things can be said about the printed words amidst these massing herds? ♦ Some are absorbed in the flapping languor of newspapers, surrounded by discarded sections, or making connections with their crossword corrections ♦ Others are urged to submerge themselves in a work of fiction or in the dirge of a tome of fact ♦ Or perhaps a wine-stained menu or even a programme movie guide, set aside for the time when reading will end and when eating or watching will commence; when there's an end to word sense ♦ Some read alone; some in groups – laughing at some cartoon that lampoons the world's news, or at what makes sense is to give offence by the hurling of shoes ♦ Some are reading in a vacuum of silence; some in the chaos of sound ♦ Some of you might even beat a retreat to the street - to read this.

Not exactly Shakespeare (although if you prick me, do I not still bleed?), but The Broadway seemed to like it....