Back...

I must apologise. Quite remiss of me not to update properly of late. Rather than wallow in the misery of Sully ending, I shot over to Bradford to make a short film. Not just any old short film but one of two Global Stories shorts, backed by Screen Yorkshire, Equal and various other people, that were made in just eight days and will be premiered in Bradford at the same time as the Bollywood Oscars are taking place in West Yorkshire. I'm back in Hull now. Utterly exhausted, but back. And I'll be back in Bradford next Thursday for the premier. I'll post a few pics of the cast and crew when time allows and tell you a bit more. Today, other than sleep, I've had to rescue my virus-riddled laptop, which died mid-way through the production, boo hoo. But here I am again. Brace yourselves!!

Tags: Sully, Global Stories, Bradford, writing, virus

Limp...

To Sheffield, then, to chat to young writers in the small-chaired surrounds of the city's children's library. I was told that numbers would be small as they're all up to their necks and hoody hoods in exams. But they numbered 15 and were a very responsive and attentive bunch.

No Champions League final for me - I had to catch my train home at around the same time as the match kicked-off. In the station there was a gent with a limp wandering up and down the platform and pressing the button to open the doors on the train, which wasn't due to set off for about 15 minutes. He checked if it was the Hull train with me on at least three occasions, then went back to his pacing and button pushing. With still five minutes to go he sidled up to me and asked why we couldn't get on the train. I suggested it might have something to do with the lack of a driver. There were more questions about Northern Rail's policies, none of which I was qualified to answer. The driver arrived. I said to the limping man, "You could have walked to Hull by now." "I'm a cripple," he said, "Even a cripple could have walked to Hull by now." And off he limped to get on the train. I liked his unexpected use of the word 'cripple'. Ten minutes later, as we hurtled down the line, this man was told his ticket was invalid and he'd have to get off the train in Doncaster. Six Northern Rail staff and two transport police were waiting for him and he was ejected, last heard telling them that he should be allowed to travel on the train because he was paralysed down one side of his body. It appears that a disability is no substitute for hard cash. Called into the theatre and caught the second act of the play. Surprisingly busy for a sporting drama being performed on the same night that Liverpool came second best to AC Milan. But the punters still turned up. Lovely.

Sully, Sheffield, rail travel, train

A review...

Nice words from me old mucker Charlie Hutchinson over in York...

"Windass's script does Sully proud with its broad yet local humour, big emotions and cup-tie sense of drama. Just as Sully overcame his potentially crippling calcified legs, then this melodramatic play rises above its prosaic location with its stirring story, rousing music and video projections.

"Grown men will be grateful for the darkness of the theatre as the tears flow at the finale, and [Fidel] Nanton's performance is even more moving than last time, while [Lee] Green and the gum-chewing [Amy] Thompson are game allies in Gareth Tudor Price and Martin Barrass's heart-pumping production."

Read it all in context here.

I got a call last night from my mate Rosie, the proprietor of the most excellent Fudge Cafe-Restaurant. She called me as a last resort having failed to get through to the theatre - an audience member who'd been in for some pre-show contemporary American cuisine had left their credit card in Fudge and Rosie wanted to reunite them asap. "She said she was the mother of the man playing Sully and was going to see him perform." Of course, every woman of a certain age in Hull is currently claiming to be Fidel's mother; he's a charming, tactile and very popular man. "Was she black?" I asked after five minutes of bizarre chat about surnames and eccentric women claiming to be actors' mothers. "Why," says Rosie, "Was Sully black?" Was Sully black? Has she not seen the fliers? The backs of buses? The press coverage? Fidel Nanton (right) driving through the streets of Hull visiting all of our kebab houses? Turns out it was Fidel's extremely proud mother-in-law.

York Press, Charles Hutchinson, review, Sully

Do all roads lead to this? Or just the Clive Sullivan Way?

I'm still alive. Just. I hate bloggers who fail to update on a regular basis and then post something feeble such as I've been busy or flat out with work or I really haven't had the time. Because we're all of us busy, aren't we? And if you've taken the time to come and see me here, I should at least give you something to chew on. So am full of self-loathing right now because I've been busy, flat out with work and I really haven't had the time. Yet I'm still alive. Just. Sully is going well. It's a different experience this year, not one I'm wholly in love with, but I still feel honoured that it's happening to me and not one of the hundreds, thousands, nay millions, of other writers out there. Although it's not really happening to me, it's just sort of out there, happening. I don't know why (and I'm not after sympathy or cash donations or Get Well Soon cards or ego stroking or anti-depressants) but that's proving very difficult to deal with.
Some nice production pics, here, taken by Peter Byrne. I must get myself a set of them - I think they look beautiful and capture the very essence of the play wot I wrote. Bumped into Sully designer Graham K last night. He's moved on from making sections of dual carriageway for my gubbins and is now creating a bowling green and pavilion for this bloke. What a peculiar job that is. Amusement this morning when I explained my approach to the dozens of expletives that litter the early drafts of my work with a jovial, "I know I'm a bastard when it comes to language." In response, I was told that, actually, I wasn't a bastard. No, I was a c*nt.

Sully, writing, blogging

Radio days...

On Radio H-side tonight, from 6.30pm, doing a sort of mini-desert island discs and talking, yeah, of course, about Sully. Apparently I'll be on for about an hour and you can listen live here.

publicity, BBC Radio Humberside, Sully

Arthur...

One of the unexpected pleasures of writing Sully has been the chance to shake the hands of some real rugby legends. Last night the mighty Arthur Bunting was in. Arthur coached Hull during their late 1970s resurgence and beyond, managing the still unmatched rugby league feat of a perfect season in 1978-79 and remains the most successful coach the club has ever had. Arthur's had a torrid time of it of late, having suffered a major heart attack earlier this year, so it was amazing to see him there for that and so many other reasons. I thanked him for providing me with so many memories. Arthur looked me in the eye and thanked me for doing the same for him. WOW.

Arthur Bunting, Hull FC, Sully

Time travel...

So here we go again, right back where we came in or, rather, back to May last year, when I had this to say:

Tonight's the night, then. The first night. When we find out if the thing works or not, if audiences are willing to join us on the journey, if it's going to generate laughs, or tears, or both. It's the not knowing that makes you feel anxious and insecure and walk around with everything crossed all day. This will be a long day. A day when thoughts of the subject matter, the late, great Clive Sullivan, constantly fly around my head. They let me write his story. Can you believe that?

Too early and too much other stuff on my mind to feel anxious. I just hope people turn out again for this longer run, this back by popular demand effort. Is there a popular demand? We'll have to wait and see. Last year was so special, it would be hard to fathom it happening again and feeling quite like that. Yet I sit here, wondering where those 12 months went, hoping and dreaming that it comes somewhere close. Have I really got anywhere? Fuck knows. But at least I tried.

Sully

Time's running out...

Preview tomorrow, press night on Friday. Noticed a very brief mention in The Times, part of their Millennium Magic coverage. Regard:

There was no gloating, just a step on the long road to acquiring the respect accorded the great Clive Sullivan, whose crossing from west to east Hull in 1974 is celebrated in Sully, Hull Truck Theatre’s new play.

Which probably won't send anyone rushing to the box office but, y'know, a nice pleasant surprise. The video interview that appeared on the HDM's website is available here if you're interested although you might have to strain your ears in places.

Sully

A bit distracted...

So, a week that should end with lots of excitement. I know of at least one person who has bought a ticket - thank you, Music Man. If I'm there that night, do say hello. I'm due to appear on Look North on Thursday evening to discuss things of a Sully nature with housewives favourite Peter Levy (note to self: remember to point out that the play will also be of interest and entertaining to those not especially au fait with rugby league). It should be available online for 24 hours, so I'll post the link on here once it's available. In other extraordinary media coverage news, we have made the Goole Times. Yippee.

Lots to look forward to, then. Yet I'm a bit distracted. Tomorrow I start work at Opera North, in Leeds. As I sit here watching Selby's amazing comeback against Higgins in the World Snooker Championship (such drama!), I'm feeling those usual pre-work wobbles. It's a part-time position, so it shouldn't get in the way of the writing. At least that's the plan. Since I left the Mail around about this time last year, caught up as I was in the excitement of the original production of Sully, I've managed to write three more plays, one of which definitely has a home, a novel, which currently resides with a publisher, and a short film script, which goes into production at the end of May, as well as pitching several other ideas. Not bad going. Quite whether the new Web Content Editor me will be quite as prolific as the full-time playwright me remains to be seen. I certainly hope so. Wish me luck?

Bank holiday Monday. I thought it would be good idea to go for a bike ride. Given that I've not cycled anywhere since we lived in York, it made perfect sense to me to ride to mother's house, five miles away on the other side of the city, and back again. My legs hurt. I fear that tomorrow, when I'm trying to create a good first impression in front of my new colleagues, people might be looking at me wondering why does he walk like that?

Sully, work, snooker, writing, Look North

Would you buy a used goat from this man?

There's the trifling little matter of a 200th derby game today, with Hull FC and Hull KR locking horns in the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff (for reasons best known to the disorganisers at the Rugby League). Hull FC will win. Nice to see The Guardian mention Clive Sullivan today - "the most celebrated of all players to have played for FC and Rovers." I was attempting to mind my own business in the city centre yesterday when a chap from one of the local independent radio stations thrust an enormous microphone under my nose in an effort to capture some snappy arch-rival soundbites for the airwaves (I'm beginning to think I have 'media friendly' stamped on my forehead). I was asked where I stood on the whole Paul Cooke saga. I replied that I would, actually, like to stand on Paul Cooke. Which I didn't mean, of course, if you're a Hull KR fan thinking about buying a ticket for Sully. In the same aforementioned preview in The Guardian, Paul Cooke says "Hull is sort of a goldfish bowl, especially for the rugby league players..." Hmmf. Watch out for the sharks, Paul.

Sent the short film script script-editorwards this morning. I added the finishing touches while eating vast quantities of fizzy cola bottles.

Suffering from insomnia, I managed to catch a sad story on Five Live at about 4am. It was the tale of Rose, the goat, who has died after eating a carrier bag. Rose shot to fame last year after the Sudan Tribune reported her marriage to a man. The man, Mr T (but not, one assumes, that Mr T), was forced to marry the goat and pay a dowry to its owner after being caught red-handed and red-faced having sex with Rose. The Sudan Tribune's obit is again journalistic gold and I especially like the line, "She is survived by a newly born male goat, now four months old and staying with Mr T."

Hull, Rugby League, Millennium Weekend, derby, goat

Rehearsals...

Went to see a run of Sully. Quite spectacular. If I'd not written it and were still reviewing, I wouldn't have the superlatives to describe what I saw this afternoon. Thankfully, the rest of the people involved in the production aren't as arrogant as I am and are still determined to keep improving their performances between now and the opening. L-R, Fidel Nanton, yours truly, Lee Green, co-director Martin Barrass, SM Sam Walford and pocket-sized dynamo Amy Thompson.

Sully, rehearsals, theatre

And then what?

A few changes to the sidebar. The blog roll's now automatically sloshing about on the right hand side via my RSS feed reader, so there'll be no more hours wasted manually pasting new links in there - rather, every time I subscribe to a new feed, it will appear as if by magic. Hurrah. I should have done it long, long ago.

Back on the radio today. No listen-again feature this time to send you to. Shucks. M tells me I did okay, sounded coherent and should have my own show. She can be sarcastic at times.

Last night's reading at the college went okay but there's certainly work to do on the script, which skids to a standstill in a couple of places. That will have to change as I can't stand the thought of boring an audience. We agreed a date for the redraft, after which we're heading towards a rehearsed reading. Alarmingly, I was informed that the students at this learning institute are studying playwrights from round these parts at the moment and one of those under the spotlight is, gulp, me (eh???). Would I go in and have a chat with them? Of course, I said yes.

Sully opens a week today. I'm calling in to rehearsals tomorrow for a look and that will be the last I see of it until the first night. This year is like an out-of-body experience and very little to do with me and, indeed, I feel a bit flat and increasingly detached from reality but I'm really looking forward to seeing the play in the theatre again. And then what? You'd think I'd know by now.

Listening: Joan Armatrading - In To The Blues

blog roll, Sully, writing

Hull as the best place in the country...

Sully gets a mention in The Independent today. Part of a bigger feature about the Paul Cooke saga and the upcoming Hull v Rovers derby game in Cardiff on Saturday. The piece has the head A Bridge Too Far: A sporting saga of loyalty and treachery. Cripes. We may get lynched for this. Thankfully, the writer Paul Vallely hasn't done us up like the proverbial kipper. I don't think. I'll quote the relevant chunk below and then direct you to the full feature, if you fancy a read.

The Cooke saga has only entrenched that. "It's the biggest story in Hull since 1974 when Clive Sullivan moved from FC to Rovers," says [Dick] Tingle.

By curious happenstance a play about Sullivan is due to open at the Hull Truck Theatre Company next Thursday. It tells the story of how Sullivan, who resigned at FC after a distinguished career, then came out of retirement to join Rovers.

"Sully got tomatoes thrown at his windows at first," says the playwright, Dave Windass, in a break from rehearsals, "but, after his tragically early death at 42, huge throngs in the colours of both teams mingled in the streets for his funeral." The main road into the city from the Humber Bridge is now named after him.

"The trouble is Sully united a community but Cookey is hammering a wedge into it," said one of the play's directors, Gareth Tudor Price. Even the theatre has to echo sporting reality in Hull. Tudor Price is an FC supporter; the other director, Martin Barrass, supports KR. "Cookey's had his car done in today," one of the actors, Lee Green, an FC fan, tells Barrass, who winces.

The play does its best to send out a rather different message. At the end, the imposing actor playing Sully, Fidel Nanton, delivers a moving peroration about how both sides are the same beneath their shirts. "It's about the community, strong and up on its feet," says Windass, "about Hull as the best place in the country." You had better believe it.

Read it all in context at The Independent Online Edition here

Couple of inaccuracies, of course. Sullivan hadn't retired at Hull FC when he switched to Rovers, he was still playing at the highest level and continued to do so. And Lee Green said the stuff about Cookey hammering a wedge into the city, not Gareth. Bless those feature writers, their rapid note-taking and their deadlines. A moving peroration? Blimey, the box office will be inundated with Independent readers after that.

Sully, Independent, Paul Cooke, Hull FC, Hull KR, derby

Sonic boom boy...

Sadly, for you, you only have six hours in which you can listen again to my performance on last night's Radio Humberside show Sportstalk before it's replaced by tonight's programme. Still, if you're at work, it will give you something to do, eh? Have a go here. But if you're reading this on Thursday, or in 2008, don't bother. I'm about 23 minutes in. Co-director Martin B joins in a bit later via the miracle of a telephone line. After I'd left the studio a few people sent text messages and emails to the show to say how much they'd enjoyed Sully last year. And none of the messengers (messagers?) were relatives, as far as I know. How nice of them to make the effort.
This morning I finished the first draft of a short film script. Tonight, we're having a read through of the harshly trimmed Rank play to see if it still makes sense.

Sully, radio, Rank, theatre

Props...

There are very few props used in Sully. No, the trio of performers get by with an old chair*, a rope, two beer crates, a rugby ball and a packet of cigarettes. I'm beginning to think that the cigarettes are something of a luxury. Especially in these days of smoking bans. I was thinking of suggesting some rewrites to get rid of the other bits and pieces, too. Perhaps that's something to aim for should I write a third play that revolves around rugby league - to do it without using a ball. On the right is the model for Graham Kirk's set design. It's a road, in case you're wondering.

*The chair is something of a star. As well as appearing in the premiere of Sully last year, it also featured in Richard Bean's Up On Roof. Apparently it's forever bothering box office for complimentary tix for dozens of furniture friends.

Sully, theatre, rehearsals

Angst...

Nice piece in the HDM today about Sully. With an accompanying video too - once there's a link available you shall have it, dear reader (how are ya, mum?). And I'm on Radio Humberside twice this week; on a sports-related shindig tomorrow night (6.30pm) and alongside Ros Sullivan on Thursday afternoon (2pm). Listen live here and hear for yourselves how inarticulate I can be. And apparently The Independent are in Hull tomorrow investigating recent rugby league shenanigans in the city and want to sit in on rehearsals and have a chat. All good, then. As M points out, the really nice thing about the HDM piece is that I'm hardly mentioned - the play now has its own set of wings and long may it continue to fly. And tickets to sell. And last year's amazing audience reaction be repeated. Meanwhile, I'm getting angsty about my next play for the theatre, the latest reading of my Rank gubbins this week, a short film that I'm writing, a disaster with my car that I'm not about to bore you here and an imminent new appointment with Opera North. M tells me I am losing weight. Impartial observers would still point to the wobbly bits and laugh.

BTW, the pic is from last week and, L-R, is Lee Green, Fidel and Amy Thompson. They've since just about dispensed with the scripts.

Sully, press, theatre

Watching the wheels...

Ros Sullivan and Fidel Nanton, who has the rather difficult task of playing the late, great Clive Sullivan in Sully, set the publicity wheels in motion. The venue is the KC Stadium, the photographer is Dave Barker.

Clive Sullivan, Sully, theatre

I'm really not a stalker...

So, the Rik Mayall is in the same hotel as Fidel, the actor playing Sully. I know this because the pair of them met briefly in the hotel bar on Sunday when they both rolled into town. My response when Fidel told me this? "I have to meet the Rik!!! He's my all-time comedy hero!!! Arrange it for me!!!" Anyway, the Rik wasn't in the hotel bar on the two occasions I have been this week - mainly and obviously because he was on stage at the New Theatre performing as Alan B'Stard in The New Statesman. So the dream was over before it began. Then today, I'm sitting minding my own business outside a pub when, across the road, I spy a familiar looking chap having a cigarette and, to be honest, looking a bit shifty. And, yes, you guessed it, it was the Rik Mayall. So here was my chance. "The Rik!" I shouted, expecting him to run away. But he didn't run away. The Rik Mayall pointed at me, smiled his pearly white grin and walked across the road to have a chat. What a lovely man. I knew, ever since I watched him do Kevin Turvey, that he would be. "I have to shake your hand," I said, "the Rik Mayall is my all-time comedy hero." "You won't shake this hand," said the Rik, "because I did a comedy fall off a chaise longue and I've damaged my finger. Shake this hand!" And the Rik thrust his left hand at me. How many people can say they've shaken the left hand of the Rik Mayall? Amazing. The Rik also introduced me to his Hull-born co-star, Garry Cooper, who was Peter in Quadrophenia and counts the fabulous (Jack Rosenthal penned Channel Four film) P'tang Yang Kipperbang among his many credits. "I hate him," said the Rik "he gets all the laughs."

After that excitement I found myself talking to two local historians who, I kid you not, are researching a book about a place in North Yorkshire called Lea Green. One of the other actors in Sully is called Lee Green. Frankly, that's just too weird for my small brain to compute. I gave them a flier for the play, they bought me a drink - even I know that's not a fair swap.

Rik Mayall, comedy, Sully, Garry Cooper, hero

Well, where'd you think I'd be?

Back to rehearsals. Little for me to do except look on in amazement and wonder how I'll keep sane over the next couple of weeks while they're busy with this and I'm not. Look at the smile on Martin's face. Bless. At that point, of course, he knew he was just seconds away from asking the actors to get on their haunches.







Naturally, once on their haunches the actors were teased with an unpeeled banana well-within its best before date and strategically placed in close proximity to a mug containing Martin's dentures.

Later, we adjourned to a hotel currently playing host to comedy hero Rik Mayall to watch two of our entourage eating chips and wedges, the latter proving to be the most popular of the two potato-based products on offer. And that, folks, is the creative process in a nutshell.

Sully, rehearsals, Hull Truck

First day of rehearsals...

First day of rehearsals for Sully. I still keep expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder and tell me it's all just a wild, crazy, extravagant, nay, impossible dream. Suffice to say that the new cast member(s) (Amy (and her thick sheepskin boots)) slotted in seamlessly, the existing two cast members (non-descript footwear) showed a remarkable capacity for remembering events that took place 12 months ago, the co-directors rock and me, well, I sat at the back feeling like a spare part and generally feeling lots of admiration for the people doing some actual work. Writers. Pah! They're such misfits, eh?

Sully, writing, rehearsals