Tales from the Fringe part 4

Hello dear readers

In my first blog post regarding the Edinburgh fringe I mentioned flyering to an older lady who told me I was beautiful. Well, that old lady (circa bout your nans age) came to my show on Sunday evening, flyer in hand, excited to see the show. She sat in the front and asked if I would be dancing, I told her that sadly I would not be (like most girls from Surrey, I have no rhythm) and I warned her there would be some swearing. And I say the word spunking quite aggressively.

She said she was totally cool with that.

She was ace, she seemed to really enjoy the show and made sympathetic noises during the sad parts. I wanted to pause and tell her that I was okay, because now I could talk about all the bad things that had happened to me in a cathartic fashion.

(I flyered to a guy last week, and after pitching him the show “it’s about how Jean-Luc Picard helped me deal with my parents divorce blah blah,” he asked me if I was okay now. I said, “sort of.” I think sort of is pretty decent as being okay goes.)

I was extremely touched she came all the way out to watch the show – it felt like seeing an old friend. I also had a reviewer in from Geek Chocolate, an excellent website, who rightly corrected me on my pronunciation of Jean Luc’s brothers name (it’s Robert, and I wasn’t saying it in quite the sexy French fashion it demands – or attempting to say it as it should be said at all). Oh, and last night Jean Luc Picards mask flew off half-way through the show, revealing how much he looks like a weird testicle underneath.

I also dragged Jade to the Scottish Whisky experience on Sunday, where I bought a tiny bottle of Drambouie. She, being an Irish lass, was having none of it.

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For the first two shows I had made the fools error of not having a little wee nip of the old booze first. I have not made that mistake since. I am normally sipping from a miniature bottle of whisky or little bottle of wine 45 minutes before the show, which helps with the nerves and (bonus!) makes me feel like a giant.

Yesterday I spent some quality time in Black Medicine Coffee with a hot chocolate and a chocolate tiffin, which I then dipped into my hot chocolate. I wanted to have sex with that hot chocolate. And the tiffin. I think it’s been a long time since I have had sugar. Or sex.

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Also we are officially half way through the run with 6 shows left. SIX SHOWS GUYS. Every day I think I will wake up full of energy, ready to climb Arthurs Seat or do a run, or see a show, and each day I wake up a little bit sleepier and more exhausted. It’s like running a marathon of feelings, being here (a marathon of feelings Ellen? Really?) But in a good way. I have had receptive, engaged and lovely audiences, a lot of diet irun bru, and many a fried potato scone. But when I get back I am gonna need a break from the sound of my own voice.

In fact, in the interest of keeping sane, myself and Jade did make the official decision today not to flyer. To have a break. Not the most Fringe thing to do, but our little two man army needs a day to recuperate as I stupidly didn’t book us any shows off. I shall still perform, but we will be doing a lot of sitting and eating and reading today, as there is no wi-fi at our apartment, and I am doing that weird thing with your phone where you make it make internet work but it costs all the money.

Also saw the best thing at the Fringe so far. Jospeh Morpurgo’s “Soothing Sounds for Baby.” Heartbreakingly clever and inventive and moving and funny. I think it’s all sold out now until the end of the run, but I was so glad to catch it. Hopefully he will tour.


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