What, my books? (humph, harrumph!) should be over here, somewhere I think…
(shuffles, Badger-like, unshaven, in maroon dressing-gown and striped pyjamas to sagging bookshelves)
Well there’s this
and this, of course.
I wish you joy of them.
(retires, coughing, amid a haze of dust)
[some years later]
(Re-enters, clad as before, but even more dishevelled. Taps on screen)
You’re still here, then?
I suppose I should add this (I made it myself, you know).
(shambles away, muttering)