The overall aim of this fringe-athon (yes, compared to real fringe addicts I'm a mere dilettante) is to get to as many different types of event and varieties of fringes/festivals as I can. There are far too many to choose from sensibly unless one is willing to spend more time carefully plotting and planning a way through all the bumph than I'd ever have the patience to do. Haphazard, random, swayed by hunger, thirst, sair feet and whether I've got change for the bus seem to have dictated my choices the last three weeks. And when I'm with friends I decided it is easier to let them choose because I might see something I'd otherwise avoid.
The Saturday I spent with K fell into a few of these categories and we began at the parliament in what was almost the final event in the Festival of Politics.
Women at the Top: Where next for Women in Politics? Attempted to frame a discussion about women's representation in local councils and parliaments both national and at Westminster. (Yes, I know Wales has an assembly not a parliament).
There is concern that next May the numbers of women MSPs and AMs will drop after the elections in Wales and Scotland. The discussion ranged from why women are not coming forward to stand, why they are not chosen when they do and the frustrating issue of a confrontational style in parliaments and parties.
It was noted that at times women had tried to form alliances or to be supportive of other elected members across party lines. This had worked for a while in Holyrood, but, according to K who is up on all things Labour, there was no trust between the women from rival parties. Anyone with the slightest awareness of the ludicrous interactions between the 2 largest parties will not be surprised to hear that.
A newly elected (to Westminster) Lib-Dem MP shared her dismal experiences of being barracked during her first speech in the Commons. She was quite clear that this did not happen with the same sexist intensity to male MPs. I could have listened to her for ages as she had such interesting views on women's representation. I didn't manage to catch her name, which was a pity as she came across as very competent. However, by the end of this hour, I was left feeling despondent about the prospects for equal representation in any council or parliament anytime in my lifetime.
A change of scene was called for to raise our spirits. The Forest Fringe Programme was running its last couple of events. We spent some time in both of these.
Firstly, the day-long project to map where people had come from to get to the fringe. We couldn't help as ideally, they wanted tickets to place on string weaving criss cross around the room or stories about our journey. "I got on a bus and got off again" wasn't exotic enough I felt and K couldn't give up her train ticket since that was needed to get home. But a great creative idea that it would have been good to spend more time looking at.
But the other event was more exciting. Over 12 hours, Third Angel & mala voadora ran What I Heard About the World (Research Map), an event attempting to map the world and collect a story for each country in it. They were going through the names of countries in alphabetical order to collect stories of fakery and pretense. Audience members came and went sharing stories of places they'd lived or visited and these were recorded in two word summations.
It was one of the most impressive and creative events I've ever seen and 12 hours was not long enough to complete this.
Emerging again into mid-festival Saturday evening crowds we ambled along to the National Library where we had good luck in getting tickets for Alan Bissett's final fringe performance of the Moira Monologues.
I'd read great reviews of this show, but hadn't any high expectations of it. I was so wrong. Once I recovered from the shock of the appalling language, I joined the rest of the audience in roaring with laughter at the antics of Moira, a well drawn example of her kind - Falkirk Woman with Attitude.
From the first sketch; Moira insisting her hard-man neighbour make his rottweiler apologise to her 'wee Pepe' for eating his food and frightening him, to the final biting observation, that we can always rely on the English football team not to let us down, this was brilliant entertainment.
The language although strong, was rhythmic and authentic to the way large parts of central Scotland speaks, but sadly I suppose it will prevent this show reaching the TV audience it deserves. I hope someone takes the risk of broadcasting it, because it didn't offend K or me who are the most easily offended women anywhere, which is high praise indeed.
The evening ended with a drenching in the downpour as we went on our way home... I'm getting a bit fed up with what passes for summer this year, but I'm sure I'm not alone in that.
Thursday and Friday at the Fringe
The Book Festival now has its own fringe just like its big sister the International Festival spawned the fringe way back at the beginning of it all.
However, I also discovered that it is not possible for a woman living in Scotland to get a legal abortion over 20 weeks, she has to go to London for this. This is shrinking our rights by stealth and really needs to be campaigned on. Quite frankly, if you do not have a womb this is not your business. Obviously I am not including those who no longer have a womb - duh!
Friday, and a change of pace; I discovered the dance festival and immediately scooted along to the one show I could get to. Not What I Had in Mind by Robin Dingemans was marvellous. I loved it and was getting really into the intense atmospheric mood created by this dancer and the percussionist, when it was very nearly ruined.
The type of parent who brings out in me all the stereotypes I try not to buy into such as earth mother, pushy parent, finger-painting, always putting the child first, mumsnet, piss off everyone else who can only do their best etc etc, brought her pre-verbal toddler into the show. The child, a sweet little creature happily and loudly gurgled and burbled away and jumped up and down, without any signs from aforementioned pain of a parent taking responsibility to shush the kid. Imagine how the atmosphere was wrecked and I cannot praise the dancer highly enough in the way he managed to maintain focus through the ensuing fuss that went on.
Eventually the parent and child removed themselves. Naturally, she had the brass neck to demand her money back and complain that she'd checked that it would be ok to take the child into the performance. It was Friday evening, the child should have been in bed. I know Edinburgh is not a child-friendly city and I'd happily support measures to change that, but there is a time and a place for kids and this was not it.
Most of the rest of the audience were incandescent, I was merely furious. There is no way to go back and see this again and I feel aggrieved at this lost opportunity to experience an emotional and exciting modern dance as perfectly as it was intended.
There seems to be a pattern emerging this festival - I keep going to shows where some annoying audience member disturbs the flow of the act in some way or other. Or am I just being intolerant?
Question: What do you do when you get to 65 and still want to do politics, but differently?
Answer: You take to the boards and try your hand at a bit of comedy.Making a Holy Show of Myself: an Abortion Monologue with Anne Rossiter was an entertaining hour. Ms Rossiter wholly showed that this crucial part of women's lives, whether as folks who've had one or hoped never to have one or supported friends and family through one, can also be a source of stand up at the fringe. It also gets more awareness raised about the inequality for N. Irish women who are excluded from the rest of the UK legislation.
However, I also discovered that it is not possible for a woman living in Scotland to get a legal abortion over 20 weeks, she has to go to London for this. This is shrinking our rights by stealth and really needs to be campaigned on. Quite frankly, if you do not have a womb this is not your business. Obviously I am not including those who no longer have a womb - duh!
Friday, and a change of pace; I discovered the dance festival and immediately scooted along to the one show I could get to. Not What I Had in Mind by Robin Dingemans was marvellous. I loved it and was getting really into the intense atmospheric mood created by this dancer and the percussionist, when it was very nearly ruined.
The type of parent who brings out in me all the stereotypes I try not to buy into such as earth mother, pushy parent, finger-painting, always putting the child first, mumsnet, piss off everyone else who can only do their best etc etc, brought her pre-verbal toddler into the show. The child, a sweet little creature happily and loudly gurgled and burbled away and jumped up and down, without any signs from aforementioned pain of a parent taking responsibility to shush the kid. Imagine how the atmosphere was wrecked and I cannot praise the dancer highly enough in the way he managed to maintain focus through the ensuing fuss that went on.
Eventually the parent and child removed themselves. Naturally, she had the brass neck to demand her money back and complain that she'd checked that it would be ok to take the child into the performance. It was Friday evening, the child should have been in bed. I know Edinburgh is not a child-friendly city and I'd happily support measures to change that, but there is a time and a place for kids and this was not it.
Most of the rest of the audience were incandescent, I was merely furious. There is no way to go back and see this again and I feel aggrieved at this lost opportunity to experience an emotional and exciting modern dance as perfectly as it was intended.
There seems to be a pattern emerging this festival - I keep going to shows where some annoying audience member disturbs the flow of the act in some way or other. Or am I just being intolerant?
Golden Rules
The installation reminded me that I should be grateful to live in a country which does not have the death penalty even though the behaviour of some (almost always violent male criminals) sometimes seems to deserve it. But also that I live in a country where convicted criminals can be given release on compassionate grounds irrespective of their guilt, in order to spend their last days out of prison/with their family.
Akvani are a trio who sing Georgian songs, in this case ancient healing harmonies to 'sweeten the soul'. It was billed as a 'soundbath of harmony' and certainly lived up to that description.
These songs were originally sung, some as early as pre-Christian times, to appease the Batonebi Spirits and to heal sick children. I'd liked to have heard more about this, and if I can manage it I'll go to another of Akvani's events running this week or next.
In the evening I went to a talk on Women and the Built Environment at Engender. A real circuitous meander round the need for women's input into living space, in particular places like refuges or social housing. And the way that outdoor space is prioritised for male activities for example five aside football instead of dance or yoga or whatever women want. Of course we don't know what women want as no one asks or listens when we speak up anyway. I can claim this from my own experience of taking part in planning consultations where what I or other women say, never makes it into recommendations, or frequently is not even recorded.
The conclusion from this discussion is that we need more women in architecture, planning, engineering and for those professions to actually speak to each other so we get joined up plans. The Golden Rule as applied to planning as well as to politics.
What thou avoidest suffering thyself seek not to impose on others. – Epictetus
Musical Monday
I was supposed to be back to work yesterday and I did get down to clearing the backlog - after a fashion. But I merged a trip to the bank with an opportunistic detour into a lunchtime concert.
Awfully glad that I did, as this was one of the highlights so far this fringe. Yes, I know I'm waxing enthusiastic about lots of things, but bare with me this time.
St Mary's Cathedral in Palmerston Place is holding a series of lunchtime recitals during the festival, as well as tours of the famous song school murals. Yesterday the recital was provided by Miyuki Kato who studied piano at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama.
The programme included Tchaikovsky, Chopin, and Liszt. I found her performance of Cantique d'amour by Liszt both moving and stirring. In fact her whole performance was a delight and I made the right decision in my diversion into the cathedral instead of rushing back to my desk.
Early evening, I went to Hildegard of Bingen and the Living Light at the new to me venue in Surgeon's Hall. Written and performed by mezzo soprano Linn Maxwell, this is the story of the famous 12th century German Abbess. Hildegard lived to her 80's becoming skilled in herbalism, composing, and sending letters to the 4 men who were pope during her lifespan.
Awfully glad that I did, as this was one of the highlights so far this fringe. Yes, I know I'm waxing enthusiastic about lots of things, but bare with me this time.
St Mary's Cathedral in Palmerston Place is holding a series of lunchtime recitals during the festival, as well as tours of the famous song school murals. Yesterday the recital was provided by Miyuki Kato who studied piano at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama.
The programme included Tchaikovsky, Chopin, and Liszt. I found her performance of Cantique d'amour by Liszt both moving and stirring. In fact her whole performance was a delight and I made the right decision in my diversion into the cathedral instead of rushing back to my desk.
Early evening, I went to Hildegard of Bingen and the Living Light at the new to me venue in Surgeon's Hall. Written and performed by mezzo soprano Linn Maxwell, this is the story of the famous 12th century German Abbess. Hildegard lived to her 80's becoming skilled in herbalism, composing, and sending letters to the 4 men who were pope during her lifespan.Neglected for centuries, Hildegard has been rediscovered and her books translated, her songs recorded and finally her extraordinary work celebrated in the 21st century.
Linn Maxwell gave a competent performance of this story, but her it was her singing that stood out most for me.
Weekend wandering
Saturday was far too warm and sunny to spend much time indoors, particularly not some of the truly steamy, even drippy venues in the bowels of the old town.
So it was a trip to the most tempting venue in Edinburgh - the book tent at the book festival. Miraculously, I resisted on this occasion, but I'll probably end up going back and buying at least some of the titles I noted. Sitting in the sun outside the book tent, I reflected that if I had to choose only one natural habitat, this would be it. Even the sense of frantic busyness couldn't detract from the sense of rightness I feel in the presence of great numbers of enticing books and fellow book lovers present each year at the book festival.
Once darkness approached we did decide on a show. Sig Other and I wanted to have another go at the free festival, having experienced good and bad earlier in the week.
We saw Yianni Agisilaou in 'The Universe: A User's Guide' at Cabaret Voltaire. This was another dank dungeon, this time filled to capacity with the kind of mixed audience only the free fringe can throw up.
The act was sort of ok but difficult to judge as a loud section of the audience had come into the wrong room and were really wanting to be at the (noisy) Bee Gee's tribute show next door. Physics and the universe was a novelty for them and some settled down and laughed while others were made uncomfortable possibly by a lingering memory of being made to feel thick at school. For that reason I will excuse some of their behaviour because it probably was not their fault they were not encouraged to take up science or to take an interest in things extraterrestrial at an earlier age. And for another reason; I will not condone any form of "Scottish cringe" which would all too frequently cause inappropriate embarrassment by some behaviour of some local folk. This is our city and any inhabitants should be able to go to events and express themselves however they want to. I don't want to feel that the various festivals exclude anyone, as they inevitably do when you look at the ticket prices. But where there are free/low cost shows and exhibitions then everyone should be equally welcome.
Sunday was again a lovely day. No more indoors suffering heatstroke, instead a brief spot the Gormley walk to Water of Leith. Here are two of these statues from Powderhall and Bonnington.
Gormley with a swan at Powderhall.
So it was a trip to the most tempting venue in Edinburgh - the book tent at the book festival. Miraculously, I resisted on this occasion, but I'll probably end up going back and buying at least some of the titles I noted. Sitting in the sun outside the book tent, I reflected that if I had to choose only one natural habitat, this would be it. Even the sense of frantic busyness couldn't detract from the sense of rightness I feel in the presence of great numbers of enticing books and fellow book lovers present each year at the book festival.
Once darkness approached we did decide on a show. Sig Other and I wanted to have another go at the free festival, having experienced good and bad earlier in the week.
We saw Yianni Agisilaou in 'The Universe: A User's Guide' at Cabaret Voltaire. This was another dank dungeon, this time filled to capacity with the kind of mixed audience only the free fringe can throw up.
The act was sort of ok but difficult to judge as a loud section of the audience had come into the wrong room and were really wanting to be at the (noisy) Bee Gee's tribute show next door. Physics and the universe was a novelty for them and some settled down and laughed while others were made uncomfortable possibly by a lingering memory of being made to feel thick at school. For that reason I will excuse some of their behaviour because it probably was not their fault they were not encouraged to take up science or to take an interest in things extraterrestrial at an earlier age. And for another reason; I will not condone any form of "Scottish cringe" which would all too frequently cause inappropriate embarrassment by some behaviour of some local folk. This is our city and any inhabitants should be able to go to events and express themselves however they want to. I don't want to feel that the various festivals exclude anyone, as they inevitably do when you look at the ticket prices. But where there are free/low cost shows and exhibitions then everyone should be equally welcome.
Sunday was again a lovely day. No more indoors suffering heatstroke, instead a brief spot the Gormley walk to Water of Leith. Here are two of these statues from Powderhall and Bonnington.
Scary Gormley at Bonnington!
More stuff at the fringe
Much trotting about the city then ensued while we hopped on and off buses and forced our way up the High St through all the flyerers, acts, human statues and promenading visitors. Then back down into the new town to get to the Assembly Rooms in time to join the restive queue of audience of a certain age wielding tickets for Fascinating Aida.
Joined by friends (Y and her queue-busting henchpersons I and J) we achieved good seats in the packed theatre and were entertained in splendid fashion.
These women should be on TV all the time, or at least as much as they want to be. Of course, some of their material would have to be way beyond the 9pm watershed and carry a health warning about the danger of laughing fit to burst. Some of the terms (not repeated here in case of attracting the wrong type of reader) needed to be made clear to older or less worldly members of the audience. Indeed the posse of archetypal primary teachers in the row behind were gratifyingly scandalised by one song. They thankfully resisted more than a token effort of pretence that they didn't understand the terminology describing intimate activities in small vehicles leading to steamed up windows.
It all set us up nicely to eat copious amounts of Mexican food. Y and I ordered more Sangria than sensible but otherwise we all behaved.
Y, I and J went to whatever late night show they had planned and Sig Other and I went to Paul Sinha.
I'd seen him last Fringe and the most I could say was that I wasn't offended. Actually, that is high praise for a Fringe show. He was much more assured and quite staggeringly right on in this year's act. Not all comic representatives of minorities/diversity strands/former doctors and so forth manage to demonstrate a competent understanding of intersectionality, but he did. And it was funny.
Wednesday & Thursday at the Fringe
I only went to one show on Wednesday as ordinary life intervened to prevent me earlier in the day.
It was sort of worth it to queue up for Keen and Khan Starstruck at the Voodoo Rooms, but only sort of. Helen Keen once again was a natural funny woman while Sofia Khan gave a talk on ten things you didn't know about NASA.
Dr Khan worked very hard to make a case for her interestingness, but really overdid the it trying to convince her audience that she was a serious and respected scientist. Why? I don't know, because no one was in any way going to accuse her of being a fraud. We are perfectly capable of believing that a young woman can have brains and academic success without having it hammered home for an hour.
It all started off very amusing, but got tired very quickly. More Helen Keen and more science, but perhaps Sofia Khan needs to go with her admission that she is not an entertainer and stick to building her (deservedly, I'm sure) glittering career in astrophysics.
On Thursday as if in compensation for the weather, I struck lucky with all three shows I went to.
Susan Murray, the Glottal Stops Here provided an excellent hour's drying off from the thunderous rain. Her theme was accents and her ability shone whether in Glaswegian, Cockney or her native Black Country.
Next, an absolute highlight of my fringe experience so far was Rainer Hersch's Victor Borge. I can only dimly recall Victor Borge he being more of my Grandmother's generation than even my parent's, but I remember enough to know that he was a great entertainer. So I didn't recognise the famous set pieces such as the punctuation sketch, but clearly this audience of a certain age were familiar with it all and wallowed gloriously in nostalgia. I merely enjoyed the act and the audience's enjoyment of it; all very happy.
The evening ended with the hideously underused, under-recognised and generally talented Kate Smurthwaite with her News at Kate in the Voodoo Rooms.
What I cannot understand is why with comics of the calibre of Kate Smurthwaite and Susan Murray and Helen Keen and all the other funny women around, we are continually subjected to banal, sexist, unoriginal and frequently offensive male comics dominating TV programmes all week long. And without going into the full "I pay my licence fee too" rigmarole, it's undeniable, I and my demographic are completely failed by programme producers who play it safe with the same old faces on every panel game and sketch show.
It was sort of worth it to queue up for Keen and Khan Starstruck at the Voodoo Rooms, but only sort of. Helen Keen once again was a natural funny woman while Sofia Khan gave a talk on ten things you didn't know about NASA.
Dr Khan worked very hard to make a case for her interestingness, but really overdid the it trying to convince her audience that she was a serious and respected scientist. Why? I don't know, because no one was in any way going to accuse her of being a fraud. We are perfectly capable of believing that a young woman can have brains and academic success without having it hammered home for an hour.
It all started off very amusing, but got tired very quickly. More Helen Keen and more science, but perhaps Sofia Khan needs to go with her admission that she is not an entertainer and stick to building her (deservedly, I'm sure) glittering career in astrophysics.
On Thursday as if in compensation for the weather, I struck lucky with all three shows I went to.
Susan Murray, the Glottal Stops Here provided an excellent hour's drying off from the thunderous rain. Her theme was accents and her ability shone whether in Glaswegian, Cockney or her native Black Country.
The quote above is pretty accurate for once.If you've never had a Kipper Tie with two sugars then you've never had a cup of tea in the Black Country. Susan was raised in the West Midlands by her Scottish family. She has the Glaswegian attitude, which doesn't match her Brummie drawl. This Brumwegian (or Glummie) has been badly dubbed all her life! Think Frankie Boyle meets Julie Walters.
Next, an absolute highlight of my fringe experience so far was Rainer Hersch's Victor Borge. I can only dimly recall Victor Borge he being more of my Grandmother's generation than even my parent's, but I remember enough to know that he was a great entertainer. So I didn't recognise the famous set pieces such as the punctuation sketch, but clearly this audience of a certain age were familiar with it all and wallowed gloriously in nostalgia. I merely enjoyed the act and the audience's enjoyment of it; all very happy.
The evening ended with the hideously underused, under-recognised and generally talented Kate Smurthwaite with her News at Kate in the Voodoo Rooms.
What I cannot understand is why with comics of the calibre of Kate Smurthwaite and Susan Murray and Helen Keen and all the other funny women around, we are continually subjected to banal, sexist, unoriginal and frequently offensive male comics dominating TV programmes all week long. And without going into the full "I pay my licence fee too" rigmarole, it's undeniable, I and my demographic are completely failed by programme producers who play it safe with the same old faces on every panel game and sketch show.
It didn't help that I'd once again forgotten my specs ...
Yesterday I took in two more fringe shows both chosen by Sig Other. I'd said that since he often missed the fringe he should choose at least some of the shows we saw together. So far this has mostly worked ok, except for the first one yesterday.
FS of S is not my cup of tea. And I add the quote above to show that I perhaps am in a minority. Strangely enough (for anywhere except the fringe) the females from the small audience all decamped to the Ladies afterwards where consensus was it was all a bit disappointing. There's an obvious comment re intimate human relations of the heterosexual kind there which I will resist adding.
Anyway, Rosie Wilby is probably capable of much better than this, and maybe in another venue with another audience she is.
The Trojan Women on the other hand was a complete delight from start to finish. A cast of around 18 enviously talented young women from the theatre group Working Girls delivered an extraordinary interpretation of Euripides's tragedy.
The chorus was worthy of the highest praise and each individual performance set a standard few fringe acts achieve. If I see this company advertised anywhere else I'll make every effort to go.
Everything would have been just a little bit easier to see had I not left my glasses behind for the second day running. This evening I might have to put them on a string round my neck before wading into the fray again.
Sequel to Fringe Report Award-winning 'The Science Of Sex'; Funny Women finalist Rosie Wilby delves further into the science of attraction and sexual chemistry. What makes us gay or straight? What turns us on? What are pheromones? Why do we have a type? What happens in the brain when we fall in love? What's the scientific origin of kissing? Rosie has appeared on Radio 4, Radio 5, LBC and BBC London. 'Wonderful' (Time Out); 'Had her audience in stitches.' (Diva); 'Packed with witty, conversational and at times controversial humour' **** (ThreeWeeks).
FS of S is not my cup of tea. And I add the quote above to show that I perhaps am in a minority. Strangely enough (for anywhere except the fringe) the females from the small audience all decamped to the Ladies afterwards where consensus was it was all a bit disappointing. There's an obvious comment re intimate human relations of the heterosexual kind there which I will resist adding.
Anyway, Rosie Wilby is probably capable of much better than this, and maybe in another venue with another audience she is.
The Trojan Women on the other hand was a complete delight from start to finish. A cast of around 18 enviously talented young women from the theatre group Working Girls delivered an extraordinary interpretation of Euripides's tragedy.
The chorus was worthy of the highest praise and each individual performance set a standard few fringe acts achieve. If I see this company advertised anywhere else I'll make every effort to go.
Everything would have been just a little bit easier to see had I not left my glasses behind for the second day running. This evening I might have to put them on a string round my neck before wading into the fray again.
It didn't help that it was pouring ...
Another day at the Fringe and another four shows sat through and variously enjoyed or endured.
First up was Helen Keen's It is Rocket Science. Utterly entertaining mix of science and the history of rocket science assisted by inventive props and audience participation in an abbreviated version of the cold war. I got to be on the Russian side which definitely won over the US side in enthusiasm and participation.
Out into the rain and across to the Zoo venue for a show in the vaults. Dusk on the River Nile, oh what can I say? I wish I could praise this if only because the young cast worked hard and screechingly to convince the audience of their passion for the words and actions. It simply didn't work for me, or for the several members of the audience who removed themselves early from the pain of carrying on till the end.
More rain and some shelter in the Pleasance Courtyard before squeezing into a packed room for Gyles Brandreth's One-to-One story telling. Gratuitous name-dropping and all round general raconteurship by the master of anecdotal wit.
A gap for drinks then the Underbelly for Toby Hadoke Now I Know my BBC. I'd seen his Moths Ate My Dr Who Scarf and remembered it only for its unremarkableness a few years ago, but gave his new show a try. He's still unremarkable, moderately inoffensive and by and large makes his case for keeping the BBC. His emphasis and pedantry regarding the correct usage of the apostrophe is what will stay with me and I suppose I better scour this post for ill-usage of said grammatical device.
First up was Helen Keen's It is Rocket Science. Utterly entertaining mix of science and the history of rocket science assisted by inventive props and audience participation in an abbreviated version of the cold war. I got to be on the Russian side which definitely won over the US side in enthusiasm and participation.
Out into the rain and across to the Zoo venue for a show in the vaults. Dusk on the River Nile, oh what can I say? I wish I could praise this if only because the young cast worked hard and screechingly to convince the audience of their passion for the words and actions. It simply didn't work for me, or for the several members of the audience who removed themselves early from the pain of carrying on till the end.
More rain and some shelter in the Pleasance Courtyard before squeezing into a packed room for Gyles Brandreth's One-to-One story telling. Gratuitous name-dropping and all round general raconteurship by the master of anecdotal wit.
A gap for drinks then the Underbelly for Toby Hadoke Now I Know my BBC. I'd seen his Moths Ate My Dr Who Scarf and remembered it only for its unremarkableness a few years ago, but gave his new show a try. He's still unremarkable, moderately inoffensive and by and large makes his case for keeping the BBC. His emphasis and pedantry regarding the correct usage of the apostrophe is what will stay with me and I suppose I better scour this post for ill-usage of said grammatical device.
Where the audience is more noteworthy than the act
There's a curious phenomenon in Edinburgh Fringe venues, where some people come along not to see the act, but to grab centre stage themselves. Some are hecklers who can help the act on, while others are there to destroy. Some are merely off their faces on something or other.
D. and I spent time and shoe leather tramping wet streets on Friday and ended up in a free show of which only politeness ensures I even mention the name. But Matt Tiller's Awkward Situation lived down to its aspirational name. As did the audience on this occasion.
For reasons known only to the venue organisers, they allowed in several batches of latecomers, thus assisting in an awkward beginning for this act. Some 7 or so young women (plus their tame bhoy) arrived after the first song had been sung. Chatting, loudly and louder, they carried on their own conversation, not all about the act, but when looked at they assured the young chap attempting to entertain us, that they all fancied him. A novel way to get the act on-side and a credit to heckling. However, they carried on, and on and on. He did his best, but this lot were immune to hints broad and subtle.
Idly, I wondered if their behaviour was because they had finally been released for the summer from some boarding school for the daughters of the rich enough to farm them off somewhere out of sight. Sadly these aga-saga writers of the future will not remember devastating this lad's act at the beginning of his first(?) Fringe, due to their overindulgence in substances. And I wish I could advise him to forget them and carry on, but his act is rubbish and I see little hope of him developing into a mature entertainer.
Despite numerous proddings, D refused to walk out, so politeness (again) bade me sit and endure both act and wanna-be's for an interminable hour.
This was the low point in a day filled with the scope of the Fringe from best to worst.
2b theatre company are staging Invisible Atom in Hill St Theatre. As near to epic as you can get in one hour of intellectual blending of economics and science with eventual tragedy. I was left trying to analyse the meaning of this play for the remainder of the day.
Underneath the Lintel suffered from coming after Invisible Atom and would otherwise have had a better reception from me, but it was well acted and mildly amusing. I agree with the Irish Times that it was 'provocative [and] mournful' but would not have given it the 5 stars they did. We bumped into the actor afterwards and murmured appropriately encouraging noises, while he remarked on what a superb audience it had been. Interesting, but not sure why he thought that, I'd thought it an average audience, but what would I know and the perspective from the front must be quite different from the darkened seats.
We kept the best till last. What would Helen Mirren do? was a delight. So funny and so well acted with great comic timing by Anita Parry. There's something uplifting and comforting being in the presence of competent middle-aged womanhood that in entertainment terms cannot be surpassed.
The odd thing is that there is more to write about when I dislike the show than when I do!?!
D. and I spent time and shoe leather tramping wet streets on Friday and ended up in a free show of which only politeness ensures I even mention the name. But Matt Tiller's Awkward Situation lived down to its aspirational name. As did the audience on this occasion.
For reasons known only to the venue organisers, they allowed in several batches of latecomers, thus assisting in an awkward beginning for this act. Some 7 or so young women (plus their tame bhoy) arrived after the first song had been sung. Chatting, loudly and louder, they carried on their own conversation, not all about the act, but when looked at they assured the young chap attempting to entertain us, that they all fancied him. A novel way to get the act on-side and a credit to heckling. However, they carried on, and on and on. He did his best, but this lot were immune to hints broad and subtle.
Idly, I wondered if their behaviour was because they had finally been released for the summer from some boarding school for the daughters of the rich enough to farm them off somewhere out of sight. Sadly these aga-saga writers of the future will not remember devastating this lad's act at the beginning of his first(?) Fringe, due to their overindulgence in substances. And I wish I could advise him to forget them and carry on, but his act is rubbish and I see little hope of him developing into a mature entertainer.
Despite numerous proddings, D refused to walk out, so politeness (again) bade me sit and endure both act and wanna-be's for an interminable hour.
This was the low point in a day filled with the scope of the Fringe from best to worst.
2b theatre company are staging Invisible Atom in Hill St Theatre. As near to epic as you can get in one hour of intellectual blending of economics and science with eventual tragedy. I was left trying to analyse the meaning of this play for the remainder of the day.
Underneath the Lintel suffered from coming after Invisible Atom and would otherwise have had a better reception from me, but it was well acted and mildly amusing. I agree with the Irish Times that it was 'provocative [and] mournful' but would not have given it the 5 stars they did. We bumped into the actor afterwards and murmured appropriately encouraging noises, while he remarked on what a superb audience it had been. Interesting, but not sure why he thought that, I'd thought it an average audience, but what would I know and the perspective from the front must be quite different from the darkened seats.
We kept the best till last. What would Helen Mirren do? was a delight. So funny and so well acted with great comic timing by Anita Parry. There's something uplifting and comforting being in the presence of competent middle-aged womanhood that in entertainment terms cannot be surpassed.
The odd thing is that there is more to write about when I dislike the show than when I do!?!
Preview events
I've downloaded an app for my iphone by the name of Theatre Ninjas who exist to mop up unsold tickets and alert fringe goers to these.
I got a ticket for Fair Trade a play using verbatim accounts from women trafficked into the UK for men to rape (for pay of course). I like to think I know a bit about this sort of issue and that I can watch without getting upset. Not this time. The cast were marvellous, and portrayed the callousness of the blokes who sell the women and the blokes who buy them in a wordless, intense scene that should penetrate even the dullest over-privileged libertarian's consciousness.
After an hour, I emerged drained but in admiration of the whole production. I'm not the only one - it was sold out.
Returning to what will be counted as normality in Edinburgh for a few weeks, I was blinking in the daylight when handed a free ticket for a song and dance show on at the Pleasance in the evening. Reel to Real is a spectacular uplifting joyous experience loved by the audience last night who gave it a standing ovation.
Superb singing and dancing and energy. I knew I'd been entertained by the end of it.
In between times I'd gone to see Katalin Hausel's Exhibition at Forest Fringe which I wish I'd taken more time over as I simply didn't 'get' it properly. It was a case of "I know I like it, but why?"
I took the above photo in the evening when the overcast clouds had moved on and the city was bathed in this beautiful blue. This is a view of Calton Hill from Jeffery Street.
Tented city
An early sign of impending Edinburgh festivals is the emergence of assorted marquees in odd parts of the city. Few would categorise Charlotte Square as a shanty town despite the tents sprouting all over it in preparation for the Bookfestival. I suspect the august class of August squatters in that area would dispute these terms if applied to them.
By far the best temporary structure is the Famous Spiegeltent back again in George Square with a great programme all this month.
At the other end of the gorgeousness spectrum is the off white structure at Shrub Place. Nofitstatecircus is described as an amazing spaceship. Nope, not how I'd describe it, but I'm not a fan of circuses whatever their state having been traumatised very early on at Blackpool Circus by someone dropping their melting ice cream over me while not paying attention to the clowns. I've made no effort to get over this, so far down the trauma list is it. But obviously, as the therapists say, "there's a wee live issue there, hen."
It's very likely that NFSC do a very good show very appreciated by their audiences and if given a free ticket I'd go - for my own good you understand ...
However, apart from scouting about the place as I get on and off the buses across this town, I've made no significant progress towards festivaling in the last several days. Things get going by the end of this week, so high hopes for taking a run and jump into the deep end.
By far the best temporary structure is the Famous Spiegeltent back again in George Square with a great programme all this month.
At the other end of the gorgeousness spectrum is the off white structure at Shrub Place. Nofitstatecircus is described as an amazing spaceship. Nope, not how I'd describe it, but I'm not a fan of circuses whatever their state having been traumatised very early on at Blackpool Circus by someone dropping their melting ice cream over me while not paying attention to the clowns. I've made no effort to get over this, so far down the trauma list is it. But obviously, as the therapists say, "there's a wee live issue there, hen."
It's very likely that NFSC do a very good show very appreciated by their audiences and if given a free ticket I'd go - for my own good you understand ...
However, apart from scouting about the place as I get on and off the buses across this town, I've made no significant progress towards festivaling in the last several days. Things get going by the end of this week, so high hopes for taking a run and jump into the deep end.
Rain stops play
I'm quite upfront and not ashamed to say I'm only a fairweather festivaler. The miserable weather yesterday quite discouraged my vague plans to head off to the Jazz Festival goings-on in the Grassmarket. As previously mentioned, jazz is not my favourite music, so standing around in the rain is not up there with any priorities.
I did manage to attend two openings at the art festival on Friday evening. Kirsty O'Connor who paints and pots invited me to her new exhibition running during the festival period in the Shiatsu Centre in Bread Street.
I've seen a lot of Kirsty's pots and love them, but I've not seen her earlier paintings. She has some stunning paintings in this exhibition, in pastels and in charcoal.
I did manage to attend two openings at the art festival on Friday evening. Kirsty O'Connor who paints and pots invited me to her new exhibition running during the festival period in the Shiatsu Centre in Bread Street.
I've seen a lot of Kirsty's pots and love them, but I've not seen her earlier paintings. She has some stunning paintings in this exhibition, in pastels and in charcoal.The other opening was in the new foyer of the Usher Hall. I'd not been in it before the other evening and was so impressed with what's been done there. It's not a big space, but I think it is well designed and makes the best use of the space.
Lara Greene is an Edinburgh-based sculptor whose kinetic works are on show in the foyer for the duration of the festival. I've not seen anything like them before, so am probably doing them a disservice when I say they are 'moving objects' placed on pillars and walls. They are constructed from pieces of musical instruments eg violin bows and metal, made to move by electricity and wires. There is a lot more to them than this inadequate description.
Most of the main fringe doesn't get underway till later this week, so I've no plans to get out and see anything in particular, but the Edinburgh Mela is coming up at the weekend so fingers crossed for sunny weather for that down at Leith links.
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