|
|
|
The
Edinburgh Fringe
|
||
|
|
Fringe 2010 Blog - 7Latitude Day 2 - Friday 16 July 2010How keen were we? First in line to get our performer wristbands. Oh yeah! To be honest, there was a good reason for this. We needed to unload our van and place our set into the Theatre Tent's storage space as early in the morning as possible, before all the other theatre companies showed up. It was the entire reason for us arriving the day before, so it would have been a little silly of us not to do that. So we did. I'm not sure what I expected from the Theatre Tent, but it wasn't anything like this. First of all, it was massive. It was huge and it was shaped liked a circus tent, probably because it actually is a circus tent. Even the seats are arranged in such a way as to allow a circus ring to be set up in the centre of the tent. I love circuses, so this was especially pleasing for me. The fact that we'd be performing in a circus tent was brilliant! Our set proved to be a bit of a problem. Not that it was too big, or too bulky, or too fragile for storage, but that we had a set at all. There wasn't really anywhere we could keep it. In fact, we were the only company that I know of that actually had a set. The rest all made do with props and small, easily storable bits of equipment. Not us. We charged in there with 15-foot lengths of metal structure, eight large boxes, curtains, costumes, musical instruments and other random bits and pieces (including, and I'm not sure why, an electric fan on a stand). There was nowhere to leave it all so, after much deliberation, we stowed it under the seating in the Theatre Tent itself. It was a long and tiresome process, but one which needed to be done. After that, I was badly in need for some coffee and breakfast. The problem with that was that nowhere was open. You see, the festival didn't officially start until later that day, so whilst there were countless food stalls able to serve enough coffee to satisfy an army, none of them would actually serve us any of it until later in the afternoon. So Simon, Jess and I decided to take matters into our own hands. There was a rumour circulating that coffee was available in the performers' area (not the one we were staying in, but the other one where the headline performers hung out). We decided to give it a shot and casually walked up to the entrance. There was a person checking wristbands to make sure you were allowed into the inner sanctum where coffee flows freely for all to take. Jess made the rookie mistake of asking if we could go in, but thankfully the person she asked was more concerned with his own coffee than anything else. We just tried to look like we belonged there and walked right in. Oh yes, we were outlaws in the land of rock and roll. Well, maybe not rock and roll, more like electro pop - this is Latitude after all - but still outlaws. Rebels with a cause and that cause was coffee. We marched right up to the refreshment tent and poured ourselves a cup of the black gold. In a fit of extra rebelliousness, I even helped myself to a ginger nut from a cookie jar! Aha! That stuck it to The Man! Simon went one step further and poured himself a glass of orange juice! We were dancing with the devil here. So we retreated carefully and went off to explore the rest of the arena. I snorted as we walked past a security guard. It was lovely having the entire Latitude festival grounds to ourselves for a morning. There was something quite magical about walking around all the different stages and tents, seeing everything set up and ready, waiting for the hoards of people to come. A sense of anticipation and readiness hung in the air. Something great was going to happen here. Some great performers were about to step onto these stages in front of massive crowds, and now we could casually stroll right up to the front of the stage sipping our feloniously sourced coffees and have the place to ourselves. The festival site is truly remarkable. It is stunningly beautiful, a mixture of open spaces and wooded areas. Everywhere you go is a stage or an art installation or something to catch your eye. The centre piece of the space is a lake with a large Latitude sign (a la Hollywood sign). Grazing beneath the sign is a flock of multi-coloured sheep (Joseph probably used them to make his dream coat). Next to it, a stage on the lake itself. It was already wonderful, and the festival hadn't even begun! We made our way back to the performers' area (our performers' area this time) and hung around in the performers' bar, whilst the rest of our company pitched their tents. Jonny seemed to be having some trouble with his. We then went for anther walk, bought a festival programme, had lunch, returned to the performers' area and he still hadn't finished pitching his tent! We also made a quick visit to The Village - the place where the normal festival-goers hang out. This daring venture into the outside world was due to the fact that we were desperately in need of something to eat and the festival's only supermarket was located there. We got our stuff and hurriedly left the land of the normal festival-goer who was forced to live in a world of smelly toilets, unrestricted camping and no performers' bar privileges. That afternoon we had a technical rehearsal. The entire thing lasted 40 minutes during which we built our set, had a quick lighting session and musical instrument set-up and then dismantled everything. There was a problem with the viola - it needed to be amplified because the tent was too large, but thankfully the festival staff were quick on the case the problem was soon solved. I then decided to do something rash. In a moment of giddy naivety, I decided to have a shower. I picked up my towel from my tent, grabbed some shower gel, and marched over to the shower portacabins next to the toilets, opposite the performers' bar. I entered the first one and shut the door. Hmm. It was already filthy. How? I mean, how?! The festival hadn't even started and it was already strewn with mud, bits of rubbish and someone's abandoned, forlorn-looking toothbrush. I switched on the shower. To my surprise, the water was warm. Lovely! I stepped inside, and began to wash. The water however, began to get warmer and warmer until it was a little too hot, so I simply turned the dial slightly to make it a little cooler. It change was instant and extreme. Ice cold water gushed out onto my naked skin, making me jump and causing me to emit an involuntary high-pitched noise that can only be described as a squeal. I didn't even know men could squeal. They can, trust me. I hurriedly fumbled with the dial, trying desperately to bring the warm water back, but it was to no avail. As far as the shower was concerned I had made my choice and my fate was sealed. A cold shower or no shower. I was full of soap so I couldn't very well stop now. I had to step up, be a man, and take the shower. It was hell. I swear the water must have been sourced form some massive ice cube on the roof of the cabin. There must have been special cooling equipment hidden in the plumbing to make it colder than humanly tolerable. To make matters worse, the entire experience was accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in my ears that seemed to fill the air, piercing my brain. It was only after I'd finished that I realised that the high-pitched noise was actually coming from my mouth. It was me screaming like a little girl. I emerged from the portacabin to find a small crowd assembled outside, wondering what all the noise was about. Some were looking through their programmes confusedly, in a misguided attempt to try and find the name of this show located at the shower portacabin. My first audience at Latitude. I sheepishly made my way back to the tent. That evening, the festival began. We first watched a play called Epic by Theatre 503 in the Theatre Tent. A very good start to the festival. We then headed down to The Lake Stage to see Nigel Kennedy with his orchestra. What a weird man. In between songs, he'd punch the air like he was cranking some invisible handle protruding from the side of his head. His banter between songs consisted mainly of calling the composers of the pieces he was playing a 'muthaf****r'. At one point, he told a very elaborate joke with a weak punchline that consisted of him throwing a clock into the audience. A big, heavy, very potentially lethal clock. There's no doubt that the man is a very talented performer. Unfortunately, his choice of set list was little too subdued for a first night at the festival, so I didn't stay long. Later that evening, we all trouped back to the Theatre Tent to see Les Enfants Terribles' production of The Vaudevillains. A good piece, slightly long, but well done. Unfortunately, I was feeling too tired and too ill to appreciate it. My cold had really caught up with me and I felt Terrible (get it?) After the show I made a half-hearted attempt to go and see Tom Jones sing in one of the smaller venues in the woods. I found the entrance to the venue blocked by festival staff. Apparently, the venue was too full to allow any more people in. I don't know why he chose to sing at one of the smaller venues, but I didn't really complain. All I really wanted to do was go to bed. So I did. Tomorrow, our first performance of Fair Trade! |
|
|
|
