Thin ice...

I liked Turkey. It was hot, the people were very nice, the dazzlingly international array of food, even if the menus were riddled with typos (Sprare ribs?), was bloody marvellous. And, for the first time in months, if not years, I felt totally relaxed. Just need to keep that ball rolling and not slip into World Cup/Stanley Cup inertia. Oh yes, I've returned to sports heaven. Having slept most of yesterday that didn't involve driving back from Manchester, in preparation for my spot of Monday night teaching, I had enough life in me when I finally got home to watch game one of the Edmonton Oilers /Carolina Hurricanes Stanley Cup, a tournament that will keep me busy in the early hours up until the end of next week if it reaches a seventh game (come on Canes!). Meanwhile, with ink remaining in my fineliner after a few days writing notes in a Moleskine, I'm all ready to spend June filling in my World Cup wall chart. Strange, given that I'm not a huge football fan, that I fear I may blow up with excitement by the time the naff opening ceremony and Germany v Costa Rica comes round on Friday.


I suppose Sully's more-or-less out of my system now. Spent a few days on the beach, letting it all run through my mind, re-living the (ahem) standing ovations, the pleasant comments that came my way and the performances and, slowly, my brain returned to its mushy normal state and I slid back down to earth. Not with a bump, as was the case last year, but after a graceful descent, during which I attempted to work out what to follow the play with. I've a few irons in fires and have scribbled rough notes and tinkered on the keyboard but, as yet, nothing definite, nothing to report, nothing that will realistically earn me huge wads of cash. I'll be trying to get Sully into print now, on the strength that it will, quite possibly, be returning at some point in the future and, thus, there's a chance we might sell a few copies. Unless I rewrite half of the play, it won't make total sense to anyone outside of Hull, nor will it travel. But I wouldn't be averse to changing the words to make that possible should the opportunity arise. I miss the cast and being a collaborator on an artistic endeavour. But I went out in style, treating the regulars of a public house near the theatre to a fine karaoke version of American Trilogy, egged on by Nat, her boyfriend and several lagers. If only I could act - it's so obvious I'm a frustrated (if slightly buoyed up by alcohol) performer.

Listening: Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced