Tuesdays at Tesco's (NHB Modern Plays)

By Emmanuel Darley

A touching one-person play about a person's true identity, the first English-language adaptation of Emmanuel Darley's hit play, Le Mardi à Monoprix.
Winner of both an Edinburgh Fringe First Award and the Herald Archangel Award
Every Tuesday, Pauline loyally spends the day with her father, tidies his home, does his ironing. Then they go to Tesco. Every Tuesday.
All eyes are on Pauline when they go shopping. Before she became Pauline, her name was Paul. And to her father she remains Paul, despite all appearances to the contrary.
Emmanuel Darley's French-language play, Le Mardi à Monoprix, was a critical and commercial hit when it premiered in Paris in 2009, and went on to be nominated for a Molière, France's national theatre awards.
'profoundly moving... brave, strong, authoritative, and full of a frustrated sweetness that pierces the heart' - Scotsman
'tight and powerful one-man exploration of identity' - Spotlight
'wistful, meditative and intelligent' - Variety
'A devastatingly moving piece of theatre' - Pariscope

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Release date: Dec 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781788500050

Emmanuel Darley

Emmanuel Darley (1963-2016) was a French writer and playwright. He first published two novels: Des petits garçons and Un gâchis. Plays include Pas bouger; Une Ombre; Indigents; Souterrains; Soldat Cheval; Tous autant que vous êtes…; C'était mieux avant; Quelqu'un manque; Le Mardi à Monoprix; Aujourd'hui Martine; Elles Deux.

Book preview

Emmanuel Darley

TUESDAYS AT

TESCO’S

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Tuesdays at Tesco’s

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Tuesdays at Tesco's was first performed at the Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh, as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2011 on 2 August 2011. The cast was as follows:

She moves forward.

Staring at each other.

This goes on for some time.

PAULINE

Everybody stares at me on Tuesdays. Everybody.

Stares at me out the corner of their eye as if discreet but not at all actually.

Tuesdays are the days I spend there helping him out his cleaning and his washing. His ironing.

Him plonked in his armchair giving orders lifting his feet.

He says No effort the doctor said take it easy so there.

He says It’s like that. I’m old. That’s all.

He watches. He points. He keeps an eye on everything.

He says Where did you learn to hoover?

He hardly says very much, though. He stays sat there quiet as midnight and I don’t know what he’s thinking.

I talk to myself. I ask questions that hang in the air dangling.

Tuesdays that’s that. I spend the day there doing this and that dusting and all sorts. I shake out the tablecloth I change the sheets. I empty the bin.

I give things a wipe. Give the place a good airing too.

I busy myself around him in front of him at his feet and he doesn’t move he doesn’t help me. I’m in his house as myself me as I am now and I wonder what’s he thinking.

I am like I always am I am dressed like this as I always am not going to put on an apron no I won’t play chambermaid enough as it is.

He says Here comes the Domestic Goddess again he says that but it’s no joke. It’s got teeth. Regular he says it. It’s his refrain you might say.

Him still sat in that dressing gown you wouldn’t believe how long he’s had it he