Buon appetito, he tells me.
Thank you, I say. I put the sandwich down.
I am looking, he tells me, for a book on sheep.
On sheep? I say.
Yes, he says, sheep.
On keeping them? I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. Yes, he tells me, but also to learn to drive.
You want to learn to drive?
Yes, he tells me.
You want to drive a car? I say.
No! I want to learn to drive a sheep, he tells me. He mimes holding a wheel, turning it this way and that.
Ah, I see, I say.
I think, I tell him, that you need to go to Foyles. I write the address down for him and explain the whereabouts of Charing Cross Road.