Madam! These truffles are delicious...
Well, there goes another yearly trip to the Fringe. If you're counting dear Reader, and I'm almost certain you're not, then this was year nine - that's right, I've been going to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a straight nine years in a row, starting in 2003 when it was just me, James, Sid and Ellie staying in St. Mary's music school up to now, when a dozen of us rent out houses and flats near the Royal Mile. Is this boring of me? Dull perhaps? Should I devote more time to exploring other lands and cultures, trekking through the rain forests or getting drunk on a beach in Thailand? Maybe. But I'm a pretty well traveled chap, and I can honestly say that apart from some childhood holidays in Hong Kong, where my innocence and ability to love anything new was as much as a part of the experience as anything else, Edinburgh Fringe is the single greatest holiday experience I've had in my adult life. Sure, I liked working on a Kibbutz and hitchhiking across Israel, but mainly I enjoy talking about it [i]having done it[/i] - at the time it was quite hard work; yes watching the sun rise over Mount Masada was lovely, but I was also knackered from the climb and really wanted a cappuccino.
On paper Edinburgh Fringe may sound more like some sort of punishment: to move from one darkened, cramped venue to another and being pelted with incessant rain in the intervals, but that's paper for you: all of the facts and none of the substance. The reality is...well, that's the point really, in many ways it's not anything like reality - you move not from venue to venue but from one world to another, each created by the performer, be it the comedians take on the world today or a puppet show set in the distant future. And whether it's good or bad, it is always more than a room with people in it: it's a story unfolding, a world unraveling or an American high school demonstrating how not to put on a musical. Plus the city is just one giant party where the world is invited. Sure, there are rubbish shows and yes, on Friday and Saturday nights the drunk locals spoil the fantasy a bit (but then in fairness it is their city), but overall is a break from reality, a little bit of topsy turvy in an otherwise straight-tie world.
This year I've decided to really make an effort to try and take a show up next year - I think that having seen it from the audience point of view for so long I'd like to see it from the performers' point of view. It's not just because of the Fringe that I have the urge to unleash my creative juices, I've been thinking generally recently about what I want out of life - work is alright and life's not too bad, but what else is it that I want? What is a fox without a chicken in its mouth? What's my chicken? I'm not sure, but I'd like to have a go at creating, to invite other people into my world for a moment or two and see what they think. I'm going to start (and perhaps finish) with comedy - I've started a sketch group, albeit one that's just been born and is squinting in the light, utterly unable to sit up yet let alone take its first steps, and I'm also going to try stand-up. The noble art of humour! Comedy has been around since the first time a caveman threw a custard pie at a mammoth (slapstick) and was then trampled to death (black comedy). Do I think I'll be good at this? I have no idea, I might be rubbish. Thing is you never know until you try, and people are rarely born good at something, mostly when you see something look effortless it's because a lot of effort has gone into it. So, here's me having a crack and, win or lose, I'll know I tried and didn't just daydream. And quite frankly I have the time, I work pretty much 9-5 and don't work weekends and have about 33 days off a year, so I have no excuses. Free time + money = the arts.
Anyway, until next time dear Reader, keep well and try to be happy.
On paper Edinburgh Fringe may sound more like some sort of punishment: to move from one darkened, cramped venue to another and being pelted with incessant rain in the intervals, but that's paper for you: all of the facts and none of the substance. The reality is...well, that's the point really, in many ways it's not anything like reality - you move not from venue to venue but from one world to another, each created by the performer, be it the comedians take on the world today or a puppet show set in the distant future. And whether it's good or bad, it is always more than a room with people in it: it's a story unfolding, a world unraveling or an American high school demonstrating how not to put on a musical. Plus the city is just one giant party where the world is invited. Sure, there are rubbish shows and yes, on Friday and Saturday nights the drunk locals spoil the fantasy a bit (but then in fairness it is their city), but overall is a break from reality, a little bit of topsy turvy in an otherwise straight-tie world.
This year I've decided to really make an effort to try and take a show up next year - I think that having seen it from the audience point of view for so long I'd like to see it from the performers' point of view. It's not just because of the Fringe that I have the urge to unleash my creative juices, I've been thinking generally recently about what I want out of life - work is alright and life's not too bad, but what else is it that I want? What is a fox without a chicken in its mouth? What's my chicken? I'm not sure, but I'd like to have a go at creating, to invite other people into my world for a moment or two and see what they think. I'm going to start (and perhaps finish) with comedy - I've started a sketch group, albeit one that's just been born and is squinting in the light, utterly unable to sit up yet let alone take its first steps, and I'm also going to try stand-up. The noble art of humour! Comedy has been around since the first time a caveman threw a custard pie at a mammoth (slapstick) and was then trampled to death (black comedy). Do I think I'll be good at this? I have no idea, I might be rubbish. Thing is you never know until you try, and people are rarely born good at something, mostly when you see something look effortless it's because a lot of effort has gone into it. So, here's me having a crack and, win or lose, I'll know I tried and didn't just daydream. And quite frankly I have the time, I work pretty much 9-5 and don't work weekends and have about 33 days off a year, so I have no excuses. Free time + money = the arts.
Anyway, until next time dear Reader, keep well and try to be happy.