Here we are, then. Arrived in Edinburgh. Feeling – so far – remarkably refreshed. I say ‘remarkable’ because we travelled up by megabus (other services that cost slightly less than three Starbucks coffees are available, no doubt).
As is the case every year, there was a group of kids (apologies, these days, anybody below the age of thirty is a ‘kid’) who chose to sit nearby and talk VERY LOUDLY until about 2am about their show that they’re doing in the fringe – you never to need to worry about deducing wether or not you’re sharing the coach with other fringe performers: they will soon let you know. That’s annoying enough, but it becomes positively skin-clenching when they spend a full ten minutes forgetting the name of the – as they call it – ‘main fairy’ in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
I’m selling the journey as much more painful than it actually was – and since we were able to doze – even actually sleep – during the journey, and arrive in Edinburgh relatively refreshed at around 7am, just in time for some decent coffee and the first of today’s thirty-plus cloudbursts.
It’s not even midday, and we’re already unpacked and showered (we’re normally in B&B or hostels, so this is unheard of), and so we’re about to strike out to town and take advantage of the fact that we have a day to ourselves before the insanity starts (again, in a day of Firsts, we’ve normally arrived when the fringe is already well under way and all our friends are deep in madness – another thing I’ve never spotted before is the ‘poster posts’ without posters)
I don’t think I’ve ever walked down the Royal Mile with the relative possibility of not having someone proffer a flyer into my hand. This year, truly, is a year of Fringe Firsts. Not so for most people on my social media feeds, who – either as stand up, improvisers or producers, have been doing this thing for ten, twenty, sometimes even thirty years.
Let’s see how this goes …