Another opening, another show
Regular readers will know that I trundle off to Glastonbury every year to frolic among the madness and mayhem. Except this year, Glastonbury had no festival for me to frolic at. Nothing daunted, ChrisC and I headed up to the Edinburgh Fringe to do some frolicking there instead.
It was all arranged rather at short notice[*] - in the fortnight beforehand, we found a flat, booked some train tickets, and were off. Oddly, the train tickets were the hardest part. A first class ticket Darlington->Edinburgh was but £26 online. Excellent, we'll have two! Oh no, two first class tickets will be £108. OK, can we have that first class ticket at £26, and that other one at £35? No. Buying one causes the other to cease existing. Thanks, East Coast Main Line, with this transparent pricing system you are really spoiling us. The journey coming south was harder to book. We wanted one ticket Edinburgh->London and one ticket Edinburgh->Darlington and we wanted to sit together. This is an astronomically ridiculous concept, the like of which cannot be countenanced by any of the online ticket-booking systems. In the end we went manually to the station, where the system reduced the booking clerk to using words he really shouldn't use in front of members of the public.
Anyway, we made it. We located the estate agents, they gave us keys, we located a flat. Then we sat and wondered how it is you actually do this Edinburgh thing anyway. For those who've never been: the programme is thick. Like, thick as an Argos catalogue. And small print. There is a lot of stuff on. No, really. More than that.
We'd decided early on that booking tickets to see just "big-name" comedians whom we could easily see doing touring shows in London wasn't cricket. Also: expensive. Which meant trawling through lists of shows we knew nothing about looking for good stuff. Which is a bit like looking for hay in a haystack, when you can't tell whether it's nice hay or not once you've found it.
ChrisC's good idea was to go to Chortle: Fast Fringe as our first show. Ten comedians presented rapid-fire style for a few minutes each. If anyone sucked, they'd go away soon and if anyone was great, we could check our their show. The first trial was to find the venue. In the Pleasance, said the programme. OK, we thought, and headed into town.
The Pleasance is a road in Edinburgh. It's also the name of a venue. By which I mean the umbrella name given to 27 venues all in (approximately) the same place. We found the Pleasance. We narrowed it down to being a show in the Pleasance Dome. Where was it, we asked? Do you mean the King Dome, the Queen Dome, the Ace Dome, the Jack Dome... we got there in the end.
(Incidentally, the Pleasance Courtyard names its venues prepositionally: Pleasance Behind, Pleasance Above, Pleasance Below... When searching for a show later in the week ChrisC described it as being in the Pleasance Round The Back Somewhere and I initially thought he was referring to a venue by name rather than descriptively.)
We got our ten comedians; no one sucked, but no one made us want to dash madly towards their show. Except, possibly, the compere - Ed Gamble - who was very funny but pointed out that in his own show, he's the straight man in a duo and thus nothing like what we'd just seen. Still, we had a plan: ChrisC was keen to see Pappy's Last Show Ever. Ticket lady did not have a plan: that show was sold out. We sat down looking vague and confused. A student happened by and offered us a flyer to see a show half-price in that venue about six feet away. Danielle Ward doing standup? Oh, all right, she was on one of the many lists we'd made...
And thus it all began. We quite quickly evolved our routine for the day: wake up, get up, get online (hurrah for a flat with wi-fi) and find out what was cheap at the Half-Price Hut that day. Consult the A-list, the B-list, the list that hadn't quite got written down, the collection of yesterday's fliers, the vague memories of what someone had said, reviews, recommendations and the programme. Make A Plan.
At Glastonbury, we tend to have some must-see bands, and a bit of an outline, and we waft about as the humour takes us. Edinburgh shows require you to be sitting down at a certain time, in a certain place and (unless you plan to walk out) tie you up until they end. If you're aiming to pack in the shows, you need A Plan. We did muse while there that there are probably quite a lot of different ways to do this - a leisurely show or two a day, a working day followed by an evening show, a totally frantic morning-til-evening marathon.
We went for a 6-a-day average, and probably could have jammed more in if we'd been really determined. Although there doesn't seem to be a strict timetable, in general there is a show starting around half oneish, and a show starting around threeish, and so on. Every day we found the threeish and half-sevenish slots full of clashing things, yet we were often a bit at a loss for what to see in the late-night slots. So we ran around frantically in the day time, and could have crammed more things in in the evenings.
My favourite way of finding out about new shows was being handed flyers in the street. This does, of course, provide no guarantee of quality at all. However, in my capricious way I liked choosing my shows based on the creativity, and enthusiasm, of the flyer-er. I presume actual residents get heartily sick of the snow of card that assails them with each step, but for a few days I enjoyed it. I eagerly collected my shiny leaflets and arranged them on the table in our living room: must-sees went at the end near the window, don't-cares went at the other, everything else graded in between.
Our other great find was the Free Fringe. These events have no ticket price (and, except in cases where they're expected to be heavily oversubscribed, no tickets). There is usually a bucket on the way out into which you are encouraged to chuck money (they often suggest a fiver, but usually temper it by suggesting "what you can afford" or "what you think the show is worth"). Some of our hot contenders for favourite show were on the Free Fringe; that and the Half-Price Hut prevented the show-watching frenzy from becoming prohibitively expensive.
The biggest downside of Edinburgh is the geography: the wretched place is three-dimensional. Which means hills. OK, I expected that, I was ready to dash up and down steep streets. What I wasn't ready for was the ability to glance at a map while dashing to a venue and then find yourself at the right longitude, the right latitude, and the wrong bleedin' altitude. Several times we ended up standing on (or under) bridges wondering how on earth you could get down (or up) there. ChrisC cottoned onto this slightly faster than I did, and perplexed bystanders at one point could have seen us running down from the castle only to have one of us shout "Wait! 3D city!" and abruptly reverse direction.
Actually, the biggest downside of Edinburgh was the shocking beer situation. People who read what I post to Twitter will already know that Pintwatch was disgusted. Deuchars (who make perfectly nice bitter) are one of the festival sponsors, and many festival posters announced "You're due a Deuchars". What they don't mention is that few of the venues actually sell it. Sure, they might have Deuchars-branded fridges behind the bar, but they'll be jammed with nasty cider and nasty lager[**]. However, on mykreeve's recommendation I discovered the Brewdog Bar, and on kauket's I found a lovely pub called the Holyrood, so it wasn't all bad.
In order to prevent this post becoming a monster, I'll keep my actual show reviews for a separate post. Instead, I shall review East Coast Main Line's southbound first-class rail service. It's actually rather pleasant (if booked in advance on a cheap deal, otherwise see: expensive, prohibitively). You get a proper meal made of real food, and everything. And tea, and coffee, and (despite previous failures) reasonable beer. And views of Durham Cathedral and Lindisfarne and the Angel of the North, though you get them from standard as well.
Oh, and despite claims made in the wonderful Midsummer: A Play With Songs we never once heard the 1 o'clock gun.
[*] Note for grahamb and zotz: the short notice and subsequent franticness meant I failed completely to see if you were around to meet up. My apologies.
[**] I admit the existence of nice cider, and even (very occasionally) nice lager, but this wasn't it.
It was all arranged rather at short notice[*] - in the fortnight beforehand, we found a flat, booked some train tickets, and were off. Oddly, the train tickets were the hardest part. A first class ticket Darlington->Edinburgh was but £26 online. Excellent, we'll have two! Oh no, two first class tickets will be £108. OK, can we have that first class ticket at £26, and that other one at £35? No. Buying one causes the other to cease existing. Thanks, East Coast Main Line, with this transparent pricing system you are really spoiling us. The journey coming south was harder to book. We wanted one ticket Edinburgh->London and one ticket Edinburgh->Darlington and we wanted to sit together. This is an astronomically ridiculous concept, the like of which cannot be countenanced by any of the online ticket-booking systems. In the end we went manually to the station, where the system reduced the booking clerk to using words he really shouldn't use in front of members of the public.
Anyway, we made it. We located the estate agents, they gave us keys, we located a flat. Then we sat and wondered how it is you actually do this Edinburgh thing anyway. For those who've never been: the programme is thick. Like, thick as an Argos catalogue. And small print. There is a lot of stuff on. No, really. More than that.
We'd decided early on that booking tickets to see just "big-name" comedians whom we could easily see doing touring shows in London wasn't cricket. Also: expensive. Which meant trawling through lists of shows we knew nothing about looking for good stuff. Which is a bit like looking for hay in a haystack, when you can't tell whether it's nice hay or not once you've found it.
ChrisC's good idea was to go to Chortle: Fast Fringe as our first show. Ten comedians presented rapid-fire style for a few minutes each. If anyone sucked, they'd go away soon and if anyone was great, we could check our their show. The first trial was to find the venue. In the Pleasance, said the programme. OK, we thought, and headed into town.
The Pleasance is a road in Edinburgh. It's also the name of a venue. By which I mean the umbrella name given to 27 venues all in (approximately) the same place. We found the Pleasance. We narrowed it down to being a show in the Pleasance Dome. Where was it, we asked? Do you mean the King Dome, the Queen Dome, the Ace Dome, the Jack Dome... we got there in the end.
(Incidentally, the Pleasance Courtyard names its venues prepositionally: Pleasance Behind, Pleasance Above, Pleasance Below... When searching for a show later in the week ChrisC described it as being in the Pleasance Round The Back Somewhere and I initially thought he was referring to a venue by name rather than descriptively.)
We got our ten comedians; no one sucked, but no one made us want to dash madly towards their show. Except, possibly, the compere - Ed Gamble - who was very funny but pointed out that in his own show, he's the straight man in a duo and thus nothing like what we'd just seen. Still, we had a plan: ChrisC was keen to see Pappy's Last Show Ever. Ticket lady did not have a plan: that show was sold out. We sat down looking vague and confused. A student happened by and offered us a flyer to see a show half-price in that venue about six feet away. Danielle Ward doing standup? Oh, all right, she was on one of the many lists we'd made...
And thus it all began. We quite quickly evolved our routine for the day: wake up, get up, get online (hurrah for a flat with wi-fi) and find out what was cheap at the Half-Price Hut that day. Consult the A-list, the B-list, the list that hadn't quite got written down, the collection of yesterday's fliers, the vague memories of what someone had said, reviews, recommendations and the programme. Make A Plan.
At Glastonbury, we tend to have some must-see bands, and a bit of an outline, and we waft about as the humour takes us. Edinburgh shows require you to be sitting down at a certain time, in a certain place and (unless you plan to walk out) tie you up until they end. If you're aiming to pack in the shows, you need A Plan. We did muse while there that there are probably quite a lot of different ways to do this - a leisurely show or two a day, a working day followed by an evening show, a totally frantic morning-til-evening marathon.
We went for a 6-a-day average, and probably could have jammed more in if we'd been really determined. Although there doesn't seem to be a strict timetable, in general there is a show starting around half oneish, and a show starting around threeish, and so on. Every day we found the threeish and half-sevenish slots full of clashing things, yet we were often a bit at a loss for what to see in the late-night slots. So we ran around frantically in the day time, and could have crammed more things in in the evenings.
My favourite way of finding out about new shows was being handed flyers in the street. This does, of course, provide no guarantee of quality at all. However, in my capricious way I liked choosing my shows based on the creativity, and enthusiasm, of the flyer-er. I presume actual residents get heartily sick of the snow of card that assails them with each step, but for a few days I enjoyed it. I eagerly collected my shiny leaflets and arranged them on the table in our living room: must-sees went at the end near the window, don't-cares went at the other, everything else graded in between.
Our other great find was the Free Fringe. These events have no ticket price (and, except in cases where they're expected to be heavily oversubscribed, no tickets). There is usually a bucket on the way out into which you are encouraged to chuck money (they often suggest a fiver, but usually temper it by suggesting "what you can afford" or "what you think the show is worth"). Some of our hot contenders for favourite show were on the Free Fringe; that and the Half-Price Hut prevented the show-watching frenzy from becoming prohibitively expensive.
The biggest downside of Edinburgh is the geography: the wretched place is three-dimensional. Which means hills. OK, I expected that, I was ready to dash up and down steep streets. What I wasn't ready for was the ability to glance at a map while dashing to a venue and then find yourself at the right longitude, the right latitude, and the wrong bleedin' altitude. Several times we ended up standing on (or under) bridges wondering how on earth you could get down (or up) there. ChrisC cottoned onto this slightly faster than I did, and perplexed bystanders at one point could have seen us running down from the castle only to have one of us shout "Wait! 3D city!" and abruptly reverse direction.
Actually, the biggest downside of Edinburgh was the shocking beer situation. People who read what I post to Twitter will already know that Pintwatch was disgusted. Deuchars (who make perfectly nice bitter) are one of the festival sponsors, and many festival posters announced "You're due a Deuchars". What they don't mention is that few of the venues actually sell it. Sure, they might have Deuchars-branded fridges behind the bar, but they'll be jammed with nasty cider and nasty lager[**]. However, on mykreeve's recommendation I discovered the Brewdog Bar, and on kauket's I found a lovely pub called the Holyrood, so it wasn't all bad.
In order to prevent this post becoming a monster, I'll keep my actual show reviews for a separate post. Instead, I shall review East Coast Main Line's southbound first-class rail service. It's actually rather pleasant (if booked in advance on a cheap deal, otherwise see: expensive, prohibitively). You get a proper meal made of real food, and everything. And tea, and coffee, and (despite previous failures) reasonable beer. And views of Durham Cathedral and Lindisfarne and the Angel of the North, though you get them from standard as well.
Oh, and despite claims made in the wonderful Midsummer: A Play With Songs we never once heard the 1 o'clock gun.
[*] Note for grahamb and zotz: the short notice and subsequent franticness meant I failed completely to see if you were around to meet up. My apologies.
[**] I admit the existence of nice cider, and even (very occasionally) nice lager, but this wasn't it.