Oh Edinburgh, my Edinburgh.
I’ve been back a couple of weeks now, and i’ve appeared out of the pit of general exhaustion the fringe invariably causes. I’ve wondered around the house drinking wine with a podcast on in place of being in a pub with friends, i’ve slept too much, eaten weirdly and talked to the cat. And so we’re on the up now. It’s been a good, if utterly bonkers month. I can blame only a house move for why it’s taken me so long to post this retrospective of the fringe.
There aren’t many places that no-one bats an eyelid at you for walking around in a dress, fishnets and trainers, especially if trailing two yellow balloons full of glitter. I am aware this stunt performing nature annoys many; hell i’m one of them. But at the same time I like that you can do that between shows perhaps for a reason no-more complex than laziness; and that it’s ok.
As ever, with the fringe, i’ve smoked, drank and talked too much. Slept too little, worked an insane amount for someone who normally gigs a few nights a week at most. I’ve lost my voice, gained it again, shared a bed with my cast and crew and crawled into the top bunk of my hostel as the sun is coming up gone 6. I’ve had intense discussions about glasses, baked beans and people we would sleep with if our respective gender and sexual preferences matched.
I’ve kissed and cuddled, partied in an underpass and thought I was going to be sick in the middle of a show.
I’ve run out of clean clothes, climbed a small mountain, made friends with strangers and gotten rained on again and again.
It’s been a wonderful month; now I’ve just got to edge back into real life. Thank you Edinburgh.