German Skerries (NHB Modern Plays)

By Robert Holman

It's the hot, humid, sticky summer of 1977. At a popular birdwatching spot jutting out into the North Sea at the mouth of the Tees, Martin, Jack, Michael and Carol are staring out into the future, their lives intertwined.
A friendship, a marriage, a holiday, and a death - the gatherings and departures that make us human. Robert Holman's richly resonant play is an uplifting portrait of human hope and vulnerability.
German Skerries was first performed at the Bush Theatre, London, and won the George Devine Award in the year that it is set. It was revived in 2016 at the Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond, in a co-production with the award-winning Up in Arms Theatre Company, followed by a tour around the UK.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Release date: Mar 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781780017266

Robert Holman

Robert Holman is a renowned and celebrated playwright in British Theatre. His plays include: Mud (Royal Court Theatre, 1974); German Skerries (Bush Theatre, 1977, and revived at the Orange Tree Theatre, 2016); Rooting (Traverse Theatre, 1979); Other Worlds (Royal Court Theatre, 1980); Today (Royal Shakespeare Company, 1984); The Overgrown Path (Royal Court Theatre, 1985); Making Noise Quietly (Bush Theatre, 1987, and revived at the Donmar Warehouse, 2012); Across Oka (Royal Shakespeare Company, 1988); Rafts and Dreams (Royal Court Theatre, 1990); Bad Weather (Royal Shakespeare Company, 1998); Holes in the Skin (Chichester Festival Theatre, 2003); Jonah and Otto (Royal Exchange Theatre, 2008, and revived at the Park Theatre, 2014); A Thousand Stars Explode in the Sky, co-written with David Eldridge and Simon Stephens (Lyric Theatre, Hammersmith, 2010); and A Breakfast of Eels (Print Room at the Coronet, 2015). He has also written a novel, The Amish Landscape.

Book preview

Scene One

Grass, one or two stones, and some half-bricks from a low wall which is falling down. Near the wall is a wooden hut: painted on the door in white lettering, ‘Teesside Bird Club’, and scrawled down one side in aerosol paint, ‘Boro Boot Boys Rule’ and ‘Jack Charlton for Prime Minister’. An electricity cable runs through the air to the hut. Resting against the other side are two oars. Propped by the wall is an old battered rowing boat.

July 22nd. A hot, humid, sticky afternoon.

JACK WILLIAMS is sitting on the grass. He is twenty-three and is wearing dirty jeans, a white T-shirt and ICI working boots. He is a small, lightly built man. Beside him is a copy of The Hamlyn Guide to Birds of Britain and Europe , a pair of binoculars, a notepad and a bag of Fox’s Glacier Fruits. He is looking out to sea through his telescope.

Behind him, beside the hut, is MARTIN JONES. He is fifty-nine and wearing a dark, baggy suit. He too is lightly built. He is resting a ladies’ bike against the hut.

JACK lowers his telescope for a moment. They see each other. JACK nods shyly.

MARTIN. Hello.

JACK looks through his telescope. MARTIN takes off his cycle clips and opens the saddlebag. He takes out an inflatable cushion and a pair of binoculars, puts the clips inside, and fastens it. The cushion and binoculars are on the ground. MARTIN stands for a moment. JACK lowers his telescope.

Much about this afternoon?

JACK. Not a lot like.

MARTIN. It must be the weather that’s to blame. The fine weather.

JACK. It’s a dead loss.

MARTIN stands for a moment. JACK puts his telescope on the grass. MARTIN takes a Yale key from his pocket and tries to open the hut door. JACK watches him. Eventually the door opens. MARTIN pushes his bike inside. He comes out and closes the door.

MARTIN. I always have the same trouble. I think it’s those young hoodlums. (Walking forward.) Trying to get in and whatnot. I wish they’d leave the hut alone.

He is standing beside JACK.

Have you been here long?

JACK. ’Bout an hour.

MARTIN walks back to the door and picks up the binoculars and cushion.

(Pointing out to sea.) I’ve bin watchin’ that ship.

MARTIN (walking back). Yes, I can see it. It will be waiting for the tide.

JACK. Reckon so?

MARTIN. Yes.

JACK. I’ve seen yer bike before like. A’ve alwez wondered ’oose it was.

MARTIN. Well it seems silly sometimes, it’s safe in the hut. I don’t walk very far, I’m more of a sitting-down man.

JACK. Yeah.

MARTIN. If nobody’s inside –

A slight pause.

JACK. What’s yer name?

MARTIN. Martin.

JACK. Jack or John, dependin’ which yer prefer. Yer not on the committee like?

MARTIN. No.

JACK. Yer not a snob then.

MARTIN. No, I’m a common-or-garden me.

JACK. Jus’ wondered – seein’ yer y’know. Yer don’ get many down on the Gare on a Fridi. People goyn out an’ that, f’the evenin’.

MARTIN. The birdwatching hasn’t been very good.

JACK. A thought it might ’ave been your duty.

MARTIN. I’m not very active on that side of the club. I don’t know who is on today.

JACK. No like?

MARTIN. I’m glad – let other people get on with it. The world is full of other people who want to. I think you feel like