Theatre business...

Cast went to extraordinary lengths and rolled into town today for a read through of the play (actor Ed went to the additional trouble of baking cakes!). Everyone was extremely enthusiastic and all went very well but, of course, there's still a lot of work to be done. Then we shot up to Spurn for a team excursion on the lifeboat, which was as fun a way of getting to know each other as can ever have been dreamed up. A very good day, wrapped up nicely by the theatre's Christmas party, which was our first night out of the house together since the arrival of the famous Finn.

On board...

Coxswain Dave gave an impressive display of his trim-tabs, demonstrating how the pitch of the Pride of the Humber can be adjusted to suit the conditions (given that the water was ridiculously calm, there were not a lot of conditions to deal with but I got the idea), and showed off his echo sounder, which, as it provides a readout of the depth of the water, allowed him to nuzzle her right up to the Spurn beach without running aground, a move which baffled a few people fishing there, I think. Dave's a feet and inches man, the readout's in metres, which means that, as well as looking at this dazzling array of equipment and pondering on rescues about to take place, he also has to do a swift mental conversion. It struck me that to grapple with all that goes on here and amid the adrenaline rush and confusion and the constant battle with the elemements that must accompany a shout, that Dave and his crew must have to have co-processors installed in their brains.
"This," says Dave, surveying the array of stationary vessels in front of him, "is the Humber's car park."
An hour later and that was that. We were sat having a cuppa outside the cafe that Dave's wife runs, met a couple of the young children that live here too and Dave did a nice monologue about the importance of his pager, how his clothes are always ready to leap into at any minute and how that, if they're stood at the checkouts in a supermarket and a bell rings, they always jump thinking it's the bell back in their house on Spurn. This, quite obviously, is a job that never stops for these heroes. Although it does have to fit in around domestic chores. "We do all that. Ironing, laundry, we're all just having new dishwashers installed. Which probably means they're closing the station."
I have, of course, kept the best bits to myself. For now.


On A Shout opens at Hull Truck Theatre on January 24th, 2008.

Tags: On A Shout, Spurn Point, RNLI, lifeboats

The bear truth...

Friend phones me to arrange a meeting while I'm out on the lifeboat. I phoned back and left a message: "I know it sounds like some crazy Billy Liar style fantasy but I couldn't pick the phone up when you called because I was on a lifeboat not far from the North Sea." Quite possibly the only time in my life that I'll ever say that.

Walked through Hull's fancy new transport interchange. A strange young man was battering seven bells of shit out of a public telephone as two security guards watched him and then turned their backs. "You're doing a great job there, gents, ignoring someone who is deliberately damaging a piece of equipment right before your eyes. Are you going to stop him?" "Have you got a bus to catch? Go on, get on it," was the rather disappointing response from this chocolate fireguard pair of uniformed imbeciles.

Hull's retail renaissance is certainly picking up pace. Not only the st but, brace yourselves, a brand spanking new mega-sized Home Bargains in the city centre. Quality, as the youth say.
And now this, a new store for Goodmawe Bears. Which is, surely, worthy of as much publicity as the local meeja can throw at it and, I expect, all Hull bloggers will be putting up their own posts. Goodmawe Bears are 'Hull's leading bear specialist'. Which you can't really argue with. I know of no other bear specialists around these parts and, should I ever need any specialist knowledge if, say, I'm fighting a bear or getting a bear to dance, I now know who to turn to.

Tags: lifeboats, Hull, St Stephen's development, bears

On a pleasure trip...

Down to Spurn Point to experience the ride of a lifetime. We were blessed with ridiculously calm waters and, of course, some amazing company. Impossible not to admire these men and I apologise in advance if anything that follows seems flippant or disrespectful. But, I can vouch, these men are also 'ordinary' blokes too, who survive the rigours of the job with heavy doses of black humour. In comparison to what they do, writing seems such a lightweight occupation. Strange, then, that they live in a place - isolated, dangerous and incredibly unique and inspirational - that would be the ideal home for a writer.
We were on board for about an hour and given a full tour of the Tardis-like Severn Class Pride of the Humber; a mircaulous craft, make no mistake, and the wheelhouse a technical extravaganza. A mesmerising explanation of the electronics - radar, GPS, laser chart plotter, echo sounder and other mysterious devices, accompanied by a cup of coffee ("a lot of time when we've plotted the course and are heading out to a shout, all we can do is drink a cuppa until we get there") was followed by a below deck inspection where we got a sneaky peek at her gleaming ("we can instantly spot a leak") twin 1600 bhp Caterpillar engines, the unfathomably large seating area ("we can strap people in down here") where 61 people were once accommodated on a rescue, and the toilet ("we don't use it, it's a cupboard for the vaccuum cleaner. Unless someone really needs it. We just go over the side"). Then it was back up top, for the hotly anticipated but, frankly, rather scary "I'll chuck it about a bit" moment. In reality, the chucking it about a bit moment was much more fun than it had been made to sound and an impressive display of what the Pride of the Humber is capable of. As I battled to keep my stupidly self-inflicted the night before going out with a lifeboat crew hangover in check, coxswain Dave demonstrated how quickly you can bring her to a full stop when you're belting along at 25 knots. He then told me to take the wheel, but only with one finger ("the steering is incredibly light, eh?" It was, I must say, a damn sight easier to handle than the beat-up broken-down Citroen ZX I've been driving of late). But I was in fear of breaking this piece of blue and orange kit, given that it's worth around £2m, and feeling inadequate given that I was in the immediate company of a highly-decorated genuine contemporary superhero. I was at my most vulnerable when the immortal words sprang forth: "This play, then. Are the lads gonna enjoy it and will it be a good crack?"

...to be continued