eBook - ePub
Trad
About this book
A fable about tradition in a mad place, Trad is the hilarious tale of the very old Thomas and his even more ancient 'da'. When Thomas reveals that he once fathered a son in a long-ago fling, the pair set off across the Irish countryside to seek the unknown child, with nothing more than a hobble and a limp to help them. A surreal comedy from former comedian Mark Doherty, and a five-star hit at the 2005 Edinburgh Festival, Trad presents a deeply funny journey of discovery, fuelled by a past that's just as bizarre as the present. Trad opened at the Bush Theatre, London in April 2006.
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Yes, you can access Trad by Mark Doherty in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Media & Performing Arts & British Drama. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
1. The House
Music: one minute intro.
Interior cottage.
DA is asleep. SON is standing. He has one arm.
Music ends.
SON: Da� Da� Da� Da� Da� Da� Da� Da� Da�
DA: What!
SON: Iâve a nice cup of tea for you.
DA: Tea� Sure there was no tea!
SON: No da.
DA: Tea? Are you having me on?
SON: Youâre addled, da â Iâll leave it for you there.
DA: Sure we didnât even have the water.
SON: No da.
DA: Did we?
Son: No da.
DA: Never mind the tea!
Son: I know, daâŚbut thereâs a cup there for you now.
DA: Or cups⌠Whereâs me gansey?*
SON: Your what?
DA: Me ganseyâŚ! Are you Irish at all?
SON: I am da.
DA: Well I donât see much evidence of it.
SON: You donât need it, da.
DA: Iâll judge what I need thank you⌠TeaâŚ!
SON: I was Irish last night.
DA: Were you boozing?
SON: I was.
DA: Good man!
SON: I sang a ballad, then fought a man.
DA: English?
SON: He was.
DA: Good manâŚ! TeaâŚ! And there wasnât a spud in the ground that year.
SON: What year, da?
DA: That yearâŚ! With the frostâŚand the rainsâŚ
SON: Aye.
DA: And weâd forgotten to plant any the previous year â
SON: Aye.
DA: AyeâŚwith the frost, and the rains⌠If me great-grandmother â
SON: Me great-great-grandmother?
DA: If your great-great-grandmother hadnât got that award â
SON: Weâre off again!
DA: â for new fiction â
SON: Aye da!
DA: â for her autobiography â there wouldnât have been a â a â
SON: A crust on the table!
DA: Crusts? Are you having me on?
SON: No da.
DA: That year?
SON: Aye.
DA: Would you stop â a crust wouldnât have survived!
SON: No da.
DA: It would have been devoured!
SON: Aye!
DA: Stuck between two bits of bread and devoured⌠Iâll tell you this â If me mother â
SON: Me grandmother?
DA: If your grandmother hadnât been the inter-county âpicking berriesâ champion, weâd never have eaten â
SON: Never have eaten.
DA: â we had blackberries for breakfast, loganberries for lunch and dinner, gooseberry tart for puddinâ and raspberry feckinâ treats with strawberry-berry teaâŚ
SON: A hooer for the vitamin C.
DA: HahâŚ? Do you know what itâs like? Living in a house full of people who smell of jam?
SON: I do not.
DA: You do not is right! The place was so full of wasps â you couldnât â you couldnât â
SON: You couldnât swing a wasp!
DA: You could not⌠And if you swung one, sure, the others would get fierce jealous, and youâd have to give them all a go⌠If me father â
SON: Me grandfather?
DA: If your grandfather hadnât been the inter-county âswinging striped insectsâ champion⌠Or so he claimed anywayâŚ
SON: A great man.
DA: A great man.
SON: A great man is right.
DA: A great man is right⌠And a fierce liar.
SON: He was.
DA: Aye⌠If he said heâd do something â he wouldnât.
SON: Aye⌠And if he said he wouldnât do something â he would.
DA: Aye⌠And if he didnât â heâd say he had.
SON: Aye â then deny it.
DA: Aye⌠Passed away God bless him the following year â during The Great Olive CrisisâŚ
SON: With respect, da â
DA: Or so he claimedâŚ
SON: With respect, da â I think that might have been the Greeks, or somethinâ off the wirelessâŚ
DA: The Great Olive Crisis â youâd be too young to remember that.
SON: Aye da.
DA: Couldnât get good olives for love nor money. Ohhh youâd get the Spanish ones alright, but what good is a Spanish olive to a palate thatâs used to the Italian onesâŚ
Pause.
Where was I?
SON: Same place, daâŚ
DA: The Great Olive Crisis â one of the worst disasters that decade.
Pause.
SON: Worse than 1916?
DA: Hah�
SON: 1916?
DA: AhâŚ! The oxygen ban! And nobody allowed to breathe on weekdays⌠WorseâŚ! Nineteen hundred and sixteenâŚ
Pause.
SON: Wasps?
DA: Years, man! YearsâŚ!
Pause.
How many summers have you seen now?
SON: A hundred this year.
DA: A hundred⌠Thereâs a fine age⌠A good even number⌠And me?
SON: Youâd never tell us da.
DA: Itâd be more than that, I suppose.
SON: It would, da, be definitionâŚ
DA: And me bloodâs gone bad, and me bones is nothinâ but shells.
SON: Ah youâve a year or two left in you yet.
DA: Years me arse â itâs the minutes Iâm counting. I thought I was gone last night⌠Oh JesusâŚitâs closing in on meâŚthe whole thing⌠The end of the lineâŚ
SON: Are you feeling better with that?
DA: I am.
SON: You were dreaming.
DA: Was Calvey in?
SON: No da⌠Calveyâs gone, da.
DA: Aye⌠I donât get addled you know.
SON: I know da.
DA: Just muddled.
SON: Muddledâs grand.
DA: âAddledâ and Iâd give a shite⌠âMuddledâ and you just have to work a bit harder⌠The end of the line is right⌠No men leftâŚwith blood relative to mine anywaysâŚ
Pause.
SON: Iâm leftâŚ
DA: The end of the genes.
SON: Iâm left da.
DA: Aye. And what good is that to anyone? What good is a bar with no booze?
SON: Can we not do this one again, please?
DA: What is it then only a room� An empty room like this.
SON: Aye...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Company
- Authorâs Note
- Characters
- 1. The House