Postcard from the Fringe

Hello there, from the Edinburgh Festival. I hope you are all well. I’m here for the full month so writing this is starting to feel like a diary, the sort left by Captain Scott of the Antarctic. Although, I doubt very much that he wrote his on a Blackberry whilst eating a bowl of choco flakes. For a start the WiFi connection there must have been terrible. No wonder, when Captain Oates popped out, he was some time – we’ve all tried getting a signal on a campsite, never easy.

Not that we’re on a campsite, no. We have a fully furnished flat, which is very lovely indeed. I must admit; when we were making our way up here, we were very nervous about what we would find; it’s always a bit of a gamble booking online. We were half expecting to turn up to find an all inclusive flight with Ryan Air, a shopping delivery from Tesco and a Thai bride. We didn’t though, Tesco don’t deliver near here. So yes, the flat is lovely – no skeletons in closet (literally or metaphorically), there is a corpse in the airing cupboard but we just ignore it.

It’s fair to say we’ve had a full-on Edinburgh experience so far. We’ve had blistering sun and torrential rain, we’ve had sweat patches and damp patches, at one point the drastic weather affected me so much I started to have a rainbow-y shine to me. I looked like Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Mascara. I hear the weather hasn’t been too good where you are? Sorry about that. Although at least when it was chucking it down there, you weren’t stood in the middle of a crowded street trying to flyer hordes of people as they ducked from the rain. It was like leafleting during Armageddon.

We’ve seen some shows too. Some excellent, some good, some that make you slightly despise small spaces – but that’s the fun of the Fringe; seeing different things and being open to hating it. One show we went to was held in a man’s living room, where he had put up paintings he’d done to look at, whilst he and a pianist sang their way through a small repertoire of songs. You’d never get that wandering round town, would you; some bloke letting you into his flat to look at the dry rot, whilst he banged away on a toy drum kit? There’s probably a market for it. And of course my show (Jerry Bucham: Freelance Activist) is going very well thanks. Far be it for me to be plugging it senselessly, I’m better than that. I’m not going to tell you it’s on everyday until the 26th Aug at 12 midday, because that would be cheap and tacky.

Anyway, all the best to you all, enjoy what sunshine there is and remember; if a bloke invites you into his flat; give it a go – it might be a piece of performance art. Or a kidnapping.

Wish you were here,
Lots of love,

Rob x

From 8th August, 2012

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