Whitechapel Library

… was one of the comparatively few in which I never sat, hoping that one day things would get better. Anyway, it’s gone. Here’s a memory from someone else, which I hope he won’t mind me quoting:

That’s sad – it was quite a place. Full of the strangest people. There used to be a bloke who drank in the White Hart. He was big and fat. He used to sit in the corner shouting sotto voce fuck fuck you f’ing cunt in a menacing, and completely mad way, and punching the palms of his hands. When he went to the bar he would ask, extremely meekly and politely, in a very high voice for a pint of the cheapest bitter. (Which he did very many times a day). I was most surprised to find him in the Whitechapel library borrowing stacks of books on the Russian Revolution…

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