Sheffield Monologue Writer, TV reviewer, & Northern Opinion Pieces

Showing posts with label mind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mind. Show all posts

Thursday 30 March 2023

HOTEL ROOM (or, Lowedges Lovers Lost) - A Sheffield Monologue

 


HOTEL ROOM (or, Lowedges Lovers Lost) first aired on BBC RADIO SHEFFIELD 6th of January 2022 and was written and performed by Ryan Oxley (C) @rybazoxo 

All material is copyrighted and unauthorised use is strictly prohibited. If you wish to use this, please contact ryanoxleywriter@gmail.com 


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This is a monologue set in a hotel room. A room in a hotel that sits in the centre of a modern-day Sheffield city centre. It’s about a family man struggling with alcohol addiction, lockdown, redundancy, and life itself. His speech is littered with Sheffield slang but no pathos is lost in the colloquialism of the local dialect. 


He drinks to take the ‘edge off 


One more won’t hurt, right?  

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SETTING A room in a high-rise hotel, situated just off the parkway roundabout, in the heart of Sheffield city centre. It’s the autumn of 2021 - and an otherwise non-descript autumnal evening. The post-industrial peak of a long-forgotten city is visible from the window, Park Hill flats a vision of 80s brutalism, and the cholera monument - a sign of past pandemics and an often ignored signpost, can be seen just in the distance. A 1990s Super Tram rattles by over Parkway Central bridge, it's a familiar sound in the city. We can hear the rain outside, and the wind whistles making the hotel window pain rattle. 


Sheffield City image (c) https://www.instagram.com/ryboxo/


The first 16 seconds of the (Richard Hawley song) Hotel Room plays, before fading. 


A man is seen sitting in this dingy ill-lit hotel room, lit only by a fading bedside lamp, and an overflowing ashtray sits on a small side table; reeking the room out. The man is laid on his bed deeply lost in thought, until he sits up suddenly, stubbing out a cigarette, swigging from a bottle of cider, and addresses the audience;  


Man - 'I'm a reyt mardy bum t’neyt, me. My nannan would have said ‘if the wind changes, your face will stay like that!’ I’d ring room service but I don’t think they serve owt that’d get rid of this mood'


(pause) 


The man sighs a sign of sadness, slowly gets up from his bed, and sits on the hotel room's window ledge 


...'Instead, I sit by this window ledge, looking out at the city lights. Even in the dark, in this city snoozing, you can still see some beauty. maybe. I can still see the sheaf market- if I cast my mind back far enough


We hear the distant sounds of cars passing by the window - low traffic noises 


'I can see the cityscape, sitting under the stars, lights bright, passing cars. That’s not for me, that, though. I’d rather here sit in total darkness, by this window ledge. A drink to take the edge off. It helps'

 

(pause) 


Man takes a drink)


'It’s daft innit? 40 years I’ve lived in this city, I'm 40 now - that’s it, and I’ve never been to this hotel until tonight. Been to a gig at 02, you know, wot used to be Roxy’s. On my own, like, I don’t mind tho as long as the beers flow. Local bands were on and not much else, but I didn’t feel like going home. It’s only half ten n’ all!...


The man shuffles awkwardly in position on the bed. Picking bits of the duvet and flicking them nervously


'I then took a stroll down here, past Castle Square (where ole isn’t road used to be) then through Fitzalan Square. Have you seen that now? Looks a lot better than it used to - dunnit? It’s all reyt that'


We hear the sound of distant traffic, cars speed by, a police siren sounds - it's a city on the move 


'I nearly jumped a taxi at the rank but didn't want to return home. Sat in a taxi back to lowedges. It’s cheaper but, she’ll only have a go at me for drinking. Don’t wanna wake the baby up, either


(pause) 


'It wasn't like it started in, in like lockdown or owt, we did fine then. We coped all right, through that. It’s just, well, I like being on my sen, and when me moods are low, I drink. Being a bloke, though, is hard to explain, get away from, or even speak about. So I just…'


Sheffield City image (c) https://www.instagram.com/ryboxo/


(break) 


A Sheffield tram can be heard passing by, over Parkway Central. We hear a drink being poured into a glass.  

 

(pause) 


'A cheeky one, a swift one, going ‘out, out’, it’s always five o clock somewhere, eh, innit? Beer o’clock! some people wait for the weekend binge, but I, ME can’t do that - no'


(pause)  


'It wa' cheap n all! You can buy like 3 litres of cider from our local shop for three quid. I’d drink that. I’d drink owt tho me. Like me, Mother used to say ‘Ive got a drinking problem. The problem is, Ive only got one liver! She drinks like a fish - so it’s clear where I got that from 


(pause) 


...I never did get her sense of humour


A tram can be heard going past Ponds Forge, and a car backfires. 


'Not workin’ dunt help either. Mrs says I've too much time on my hands  Suffered from that furlough dinna, working from home, and then redundancy. It wasn’t always like this. Cudda bin summat me. A writer, a musician even, used to be in a band myself, a long time ago like. Even Dejayed for a bit on the radio. Now? Nothing. Cudda been someone me, but…eh, I can see it now, in my mind’s eye like; Let’s raise a glass to the ‘heavyweight champion of the world’ they’d have said. I’m not a boxer, and it’s a good job, cos I’m always up against the ropes, getting beaten, day in and day out - just hoping this booze is gonna knock me out, and then that bell won’t ring again...


...Knocked-Out. Loser!


It always starts fine with one drink, that is. party time init. Good times! But before you know it - Hangover, hair of the dog - you overconsume it. It’s when it starts to consume you tho,…' 


Sheffield City image (c) https://www.instagram.com/ryboxo/


(pause) 


'I’d start Saturday mornings wi it, some weekends. I’d put the TV on and just watch all weekend and drink the time away. ‘member watching snooker live from t’crucible - half cut by 3 pm in the afternoon! Waking up by early evening, with no idea who’d won. Do you know what I’d do then? I go back to the shop and buy more cider. Drink until blackout, wait up in the middle of the night, telly back on, and then… drink again. Mrs would take the baby out all day - she knew wot wa coming...


...Just to take the edge off, like


With the audible sound of traffic on the parkway, a car beeps its horn, and we hear a crash of steel from the factory in the distance. The sounds of a city. 


'She soon got fed up with all of that, my other half, r lass. Ba'bee n all, she’s 3 - daughter, our Daisy. I met the Mrs on Lowedges, at a hotel - a northern soul dance. The prettiest girl in the room and by a mile. It wa’ like that song that Jarvis sang… ‘Something Changed’...  


And it did, that night at the hotel...


(pause) 


it really fuckin' did….'


Still sat on the bed, Man looks around the room in thought, as though to wonder how the fuck he ended up here


'I moved into her Mam's for a bit, woodchipped walls and chippy teas, we got married at the town hall registry office, photos by the fountain, got a flat about a shop, and got pregnant. We’d stayed on Lowedges as that’s where all of the family are. A little unit, togetherness, where we belong. You’d think that’d stop me drinking, wouldn't ya? To be a better Dad, be present, to be someone'


beat 


'Easier said than done, tho innit. It’s dark in my head and that’s the only time I see the light? is when I'm drunk! I've tried sobriety but that just made me worse. Struggling to handle it. A malady of mood swings, ‘ you’ve got more faces than the town hall clock’, that’s what me nannan woulda said'


(pause)


'Tablets downed - don’t work, talking bout it dunt do nowt much either. ‘be a man they say, man-up, chin-up, soldier on. Grin and bear it -even. Us northern blokes eh? Down’t pit. Steelworks, pints and the footy. be reyt! A tough lot aren’t we? No tears - just beers. Stop crying - you big girl's blouse!. I had that one a lot when I was a kid. I don’t know when it happened, it just did'


We hear the wind whistle through the room forcing the window to slam shut. Man almost jumps from the noise. He pops a lit cigarette in his mouth and gets up from the bed. 


'Hold on. Just gonna open this window back up...


..That’s better. I'm gonna sit here now and finish me cider'


If I just swing my legs over and dangle ‘em outta it. 


(pause) 


They’re gonna love me at this hotel when the mornin’ comes”! 


A Sheffield Super Tram can be heard passing by - a rattle over the parkway bridge


'Just looking outta this window, I can see life as it happens. People driving their cars, going home or going to their jobs, their busy lives, and busy gobs, blinkers on - autopilot - counting down the days till Friday. I can’t even sit straight on this window ledge, never mind concentrate for long enough to drive a car or bus or lorry. No job, no money, and a never-ending need for a drink. 


I’m sorry. 


I just can’t. 


I can't without a drink inside me, anyway.


It takes the edge off 


We hear a window slam shut, as though the wind has pushed it. 


A pause.


and then a thud. 


The first 16 seconds of the song ‘Hotel Room’ by Richard Hawley plays, before fading 



THE END 


(c) @rybazoxo January 2022, Lowedges, Sheffield, England