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The
Edinburgh Fringe
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Fringe 2010 Blog - 23Bye Bye Burghie – Tuesday 31 August 2010I had woken up two hours before the cab was due at my front door and yet, I still found myself sprinting down the stairwell and across the street. Why? No reason whatsoever. Just as the cab was about to drive off, I suddenly thought that I had forgotten the keys to my London flat in a drawer in the bedroom of my Edinburgh digs. I stopped the cab, sprinted back up the street, up two flights of stairs and into my bedroom. Heaving and sweating profusely, I opened all drawers available to be opened. Nothing. No keys. Now any rational person would at that point in time realise that they had probably packed them (although no rational person would be doing what I had just done, but anyway) and had forgotten that they had done so. I wasn’t rational. In fact, I was so far past rational, that instead of calming down and trusting in the fact that I had actually packed my keys, I suddenly decided that I must have thrown them away. I mean, of course! If the keys weren’t in the drawer, there’s only one place they must be: the dustbin! And not just any dustbin. I actually went into the kitchen and started rooting around inside the big, full, soggy, overflowing bin that we had in there. I’m sure I thought I had my reasons at the time, but right now I can’t for the life of me think of a single scenario in which I could conceivably have thrown my keys into the kitchen dustbin (instead of the one in my bedroom) without noticing. And yet there I was, up to my elbows in rubbish, my housemates at the kitchen table staring at me in silence, spoons of cereal frozen half way to their mouths. Like I said, I have no good reason that explains this incident. The keys turned out to have been in my bag (which was in the waiting taxi) all along. I suppose I was looking forward enormously to going home and had simply lost my mind for a minute or two. In fact, let’s pretend it didn’t happen. Let’s start over. I got up early at seven to have a quick breakfast, shower, finish packing and head down to the waiting cab. Even though it was still early in the morning, the sun was shining and it was already warm. It was going to be beautiful day in Edinburgh. Shame we wouldn’t be there to enjoy it. Shame? Not really, we’re going home. I shared a cab with Jide, Adele and Debs. We drove through the uncrowded streets of Edinburgh. I guess this is what the city looks like when there isn’t a festival. On the other side of The Meadows, we passed streams of Pleasance staff walking along, on their way to begin dismantling the venues. They all seemed to be very sleepy and rather glum. I didn’t envy them one bit. On the Royal Mile, pretty much all evidence of the festival had already disappeared. A few hours more, and you would never guess that the world’s biggest arts festival has just taken place. The city is going back to its normal time. On the whole we’ve had a wonderful time at this festival. Our lodgings were awesome, the play sold well, the cast got on with each other, there were no major dramas or upsets. Even the sun shone every now and then. Yes, we were all happy to be going home. We’ve all had enough of the festival to last us at least another year (or two!). However, we can’t say we’ve had a rough time of it. Far from it. We arrived at the station with time to spare. I had expected the train to be crowded, stuffed to capacity with actors going home. Imagine my joy when we pulled out of the station and my carriage was half empty! My plan had worked! I had had devised a cunning plan and had deliberately chosen to take the earliest possible train out of Edinburgh. You see, I know how bad actors are at early mornings. It’s not in our blood. We can’t cope with them. With that piece of knowledge (here’s the cunning bit) I figured that most people would still be sleeping, or passed out this early in the day. I love it when I’m right. I had planned to do some reading and maybe take a nap on the train, but the sun was shining brightly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and I had a window table to myself. The countryside we passed through was simply beautiful, so I spent a few happy hours looking out of the window and not thinking about anything in particular. Later on I watched a movie (Back to the Future Part 2 if you’re interested) and as I type this, the train is pulling out of platform 2 of Peterborough station. Will I return to Edinburgh? Well yes, I hope so. Will I return to the festival? I don’t know. Never say never, but it is a long run. Usually when on tour, you can slip away for a day or two every couple of weeks. It usually involves a mad, overnight dash home for a short while, before heading back on the road, but it’s worth it. There’s no chance of doing that in Edinburgh. On the other hand, it’s been lots of fun. We’ve played 25 shows to over four and a half thousand people. We’ve received mostly 4 star reviews, and nothing below three. I believe there are even some offers for a London transfer being considered. According to my calculations, over the past month, I’ve spent at least 24 hours watching other people on stage. According to the Fringe office, ticket sales for this year’s festival totalled 1,955,913 (a figure of which I am proud to say that at least 0.001263% is thanks to me). I heard this morning that it’s some sort of record, so it’s good news all round! Right now, it’s back to the job search. Of course I will continue writing and my blogs will be published on my website. I’ve also written a comedy for TV which I am currently trying to sell. The life of an... um... actor / musician / writer! Anyway, I’m going to sign off now. I’ll leave you with a little story that I swear I’ve been told is true. A few days ago, I bumped into someone I had worked with a few years ago. She came to see Fair Trade not knowing I was in it, and said she “recognised the shape of my head”. Yes, my head. Anyway, I was happy to see her again, not least because she reminded me of this story which occurred whilst we were working together. I believe she was assistant director on the production, and one day she arrived late for rehearsals because she had been to see a friend who had been taken to hospital. The story behind her friend’s misfortune is worth relating. Apparently, the friend - a young actress - was in between jobs and to earn some extra cash, had agreed to house-sit for a rather well off family whilst they were on holiday. All she needed to do was live in their large South Kensington home and take care of the dog. Now the dog, a very large German shepherd, was very old and needed to be given a daily dose of medication to help him cope with his arthritis. The actress was given a telephone number of a vet’s surgery, should anything go wrong. However, as soon as the family departed for the airport in a taxi, their beloved dog dropped down stone dead. Not wishing to ruin the family’s holiday, the actress called up the vet. She was told that the dog could be put in cold storage until the family’s return, however, she would have to take to the dog to the vet herself, as they couldn’t come to pick it up. Not knowing what else to do, the actress managed to stuff the dog’s body into a large holdall. Then, being the unemployed actress that she is and not being able to afford a taxi all the way to the vet’s clinic in Pimlico, she set off to the Underground station. The actress was (and still is I should assume) a fairly diminutive person. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried lifting a large dog, but they’re pretty heavy. A dead German shepherd proved to be rather hard going for the petite woman. She arrived at the station feeling rather tired and worn out. That was when a young gentleman offered to carry the bag for her down the stairs into the station. Due to its contents, she initially refused his offer, but he insisted and she relented. No sooner had he lifted the bag, that he too began to struggle under its weight and he asked her what was in it. Not wishing to say “a dog’s corpse”, she struggled to think of something to say. In a panic, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “My boyfriend’s DJ-ing equipment,” she said. They got onto the train and chatted all the way to Pimlico. It turned out he was getting off at the same station as her. He insisted on carrying her heavy bag to the station exit. She decided to let him. However, as they reached the top of the stairs leading out of the station, he suddenly elbowed her in the face and ran off with the bag, leaving her to tumble over backwards down some rather steep stairs. She ended up in hospital with a broken nose and some other bruises from the fall. When my acquaintance had gone to visit her, she was worried about the phone call she would have to now make to the family. “Hello? Yes it’s me. Sorry to disturb you whilst you’re on holiday but I think you should know that I’m in hospital so I can’t look after your home any more. Also your dog has died. And I’ve lost the body”. I’d have paid good money to see the look on the man’s face when he opened the bag expecting to find expensive DJ-ing equipment. Serves him right. The point of that story is that no matter what you believe, things might be not as they seem. A drawer may be empty, a dustbin devoid of keys, or a holdall stuffed with decomposing canine. It’s important to keep calm and carry on. I know it’s got nothing to do with anything, but I’ve got to end this blog somehow! Thanks for reading, hope you’ve enjoyed it. Also thanks to Peter and Dave at British Theatre Guide for publishing it on their website. Like I said, there will probably be more to come in the future but that’s a different tour, a different story and a different production. That’s it for now. Um... bye! |
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