Yeah so I went to the Edinburgh Fringe for a week. I felt like I'd been lied to at some point in my life because I didn't smoke, walked 7+ miles a day, hardly drank, ate whole grain bread, lots of fruit and veg, and few desserts, and I thought that was pretty much all that was necessary to feel like Tiger Woods. But I got a cold. People who eat healthy and exercise clearly feel terrible at all times and it's only the raw self-righteousness pumping through their bodies that keeps them standing.
But here is what I saw:
Just got orientated. We were staying in a flat in a place called Leith, which is about 2 miles from Princes street, which is one of the main drags of central Edinburgh. It's nice in Leith, gentrifying as I type, parts of it look like Docklands now. But with boats. Still some remnants of old Leith though, such as a oub that has Tennant's Super on tap.
So Sunday was spent wandering through craft fairs and trying to plough through the 300-odd page Fringe index. Experienced moments of pure adrenaline seeing ads for regina Spektor, Dresden Dolls and My Morning Jacket were playing tiny shows in the fringe, only to find that all three had been sold out since about 1972.
Rented a dvd called Junebug from Blockbuster for the evening. very pleasant, like a Jim Jarmusch movie if Jim Jarmusch was from the Midwest.
First play, a performance of The Crucible at a church starting at 11:15. Was the first of many times I would underestimate exactly how long it takes to get from Leith to Edinburgh (about 45 minutes brisk walk), but a healthy goose step got us there in time. It was good, some great bits, but it was done by a youngish theatre group, who approached the dramatic complexities of some of the scenes BY TALKING VERY LOUDLY AND WAVING THEIR HANDS. Seriougly, in the court scene where Abigail manages to get John Proctor taken away some people in front of me put their fingers in their ears.
The curtain call was cut short by the fact that there was a gas leak and the place needed to be evacuated, although it was nice of them to wait til the end of the show to let us know. Lots of forlorn-looking thesps in puritan get-up sitting on the steps outside, waiting to be able to get their stuff.
Wandered round town, climbed the near vertical slope up to Arthur's Seat, which lets you look at Edinburgh like it's an aerial photograph. Not sure about the veracity of the name, Scotland reckons it's where Arthur went to die, but Tintagel in Cornwall makes the same claim. frankly, it's a bit fucking to steep for someone about to shuffle off this mortal coil to make his final rest.
In the evening we went to see Aeneas Faversham, which we went to see purely because the day before we'd been studying posters near the smirnoff Underbelly complex (a corporate sponsored catacomb of little theatres) and one of the players from it accosted us. But yeah it was a series of Spike Milligan/Monty Python-esque sketches based around victorian Penny dreadfuls, and was really really really funny. www.pennydreadfuls.co.uk. Tipped to be one of the big break-outs from this year's Fringe, you heard it here first kids.
To be continued...