Up late re-drafting script. I have absolutely no recollection, just a few hours later, of what I have actually written. And in a few short moments I am off to a meeting to discuss it all. I was accompanied, during last night’s creative bursts, by a VHS tape of 101 Top Rugby League Tries, a re-run of a Challenge Cup final, a cheese spread sarnie and a few AC/DC tracks. Was sent a good luck message by a nice gent from Newtown Rugby League Club, in Australia. He’d seen Sully score four tries against Queensland in 1968 during a tour. “He was nothing short of superb that day”, he added. And on lots of other days too. We were talking about whether we were deifying Sully too much in the script last week, but whenever anyone talks about the guy they instantly elevate him to God-like status. There are few real legends in the world, but Sully is defintely one of them. Even M was impressed when she watched the footage of him tearing down the pitch, scoring a length-of-the-field try. Right now I’m beginning to sweat about the audience’s reaction. And the family’s (Sully’s family) reaction. And the family’s (mine and M’s) reaction. And what next? What’s a playwright to do? I still don’t feel any closer to turning this into anything more than a part-time diversion from a daytime job that sucks the life out of me. Still, I do keep writing these bloody things that won’t travel to other venues.