Script...

Ok, as I was saying before this retarded computer messed things up, I'm going to do something unusual.

I'm going to let you into a secret. Later this year, I'm entering a script writing competition. Leastways, I'm hoping to. The thing that is unusual, is that I'm actually going to let rip on here and share some of my ideas for the story, see what you think. Here goes.

The criteria for the script is that it must be about Eastbourne. Either set in Eastbourne, or about Eastbourne. Mine is both.

Provisionally called "If Only" (until I can think of a better title), it is a story of a man called Alfred Latham. On his 81st Birthday, he has a request. All around him he sees change, new faces, new busineses, new buildings. Every familiar he has known is no longer as it was, with the exception of one thing. His beloved wife, Rose, has recently died. His family live hundreds of miles away and never call, and he is desperate for someone familiar to talk to. Someone he has known all his life and knows will listen to him. There is only one familiar left to talk to.
The sea.
Alfred Lathams request is that he is taken to the beach and left alone for a while. As he reminisces about his life, key scenes begin to play out in his mind and on the stage behind him. Meeting his wife, problems at work and a secret that could cause a lot of trouble....

A lot of this is monologue, the audience playing the part of the ocean listening to an old mans' stories. (This is a first - never actually shown anyone anything I've written before. - hope you like!)

Alfred: ... where have "if" and "change" got us? A generation obsessed with chasing the
dreams their soft elders promised them who so readily turn to violence when those
promises aren't fulfilled. And that's to say nothing of said elders. Ridiculous old men
who would rather talk to the English Channel than go to their own birthday party. Alfie
Latham, you silly old bugger. What were you thinking? They might not have understood
you back at the home, nor even cared, but at least you wouldn't be sitting out in the
freezing cold feeling like some of imbecile sitting talking to himself on a deserted beach.
This seemed like a good idea last night.
(Pause)
Not even sure what to say now I'm here.
(Pause)
I suppose I could start by telling you about Rose. My little Rosie. Bless her. Married for
fifty-six years we were. Not a bad achievement is it? Fifty-six years. Seems like only
yesterday I met her, I can remember it so clearly.
And it hurts.
Do you know, I can remember events in my life that I wish I couldn't. Pain. Suffering.
Loss. Death of a loved one. And do you know, not all of those terrible memories
combined could ever be as painful as a fleeting remembrance of joy and happiness. I
wonder why that is?


So yeah. Little snifter for you there. Hope you like it. Oh, and I hardly need tell you that the whole thing is copyrighted to me. So ner, hands off! ;-)

anyway, that's all for now. Talk to you soon, people!

Peace, out.

Script....