There’s too much happening, too much happening and there is no time NO TIME to blog. It has been over a week and I can’t even believe it has been over a week. All the days blend into one. Into one continuous day of theatre and flyering and sleeping and dancing and eating and walking. Oh the walking. I have many other things to do tonight – I was going to see another show, but then I decided I wasn’t because I’ve become totally obsessed with ‘Orange is the New Black’ (why couldn’t I have gotten obsessed when I had finished the fringe??) and also I’m working tonight and I just don’t feel like rushing out and seeing another show right now. Plus, I saw a great show this afternoon and I feel like I’m kind of done for the day. You know?
Ok, so quick round up and then I have to start getting ready for work/watch another episode of ‘Orange is the New Black’.
Total and Utter Humiliation Day
So, last Friday I was given a slot on the Royal Mile to perform an excerpt from my show. But, it being loud on the Royal Mile and my show being wordy and talky, I thought I would come up with a new idea of what to perform. I talked it over with my producer and director and it all sounded good. But it wasn’t. Oh, no, it wasn’t. It was actually THE WORST THING EVER. EVER. EVER.
No, seriously. Don’t ask for audience participation before you’ve got them on side! Don’t ask for audience participation when the rest of the audience can’t hear the participants talking. Don’t get children to participate in something just because they’re the only ones that will say yes. Don’t do it! Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t.
Luckily my director was on hand to take me out for a cheeky cider or two and things were pretty much forgotten. Kind of not really.
Total and Utter Misery Day
Well, it was always going to happen. You couldn’t expect me to stay chipper every day of the Fringe. My producer left, my director left, I had two nights of 4 and a half hours sleep and a few 3 star reviews (yeah, haven’t been sharing those ones on Facebook!) and suddenly everything was looking pretty dire. Pre-tty di-re. Luckily I had the piece of mind to contact a variety of my friends around the fringe and ask for immediate hand-holding or hugging time. After hot chocolates, noodles, a bit of crying and a lot of talking, I started to feel a lot better.
4 Star Day!
I woke up on Sunday not entirely refreshed (I’d only had 4 hours sleep again) but at least feeling a bit more bright. It didn’t hurt that a 4 star review came out that day which said some lovely things. Flyering became so much easier. Of course, I also realised halfway through flyering that I had left my costume at home and to go get it, thereby losing most of my flyering time, but I still managed a nice audience. Also, my Dad and brother arrived that night and after much wandering around Scottish streets (how can one street have 3 different names?? On the exact same corner?? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE SCOTLAND?) I found them and had a lovely catch-up. That night I took my first foray into the proper real Edinburgh Festival (the International one that the fringe popped up around) which was… very educational. Ok, so I slept through a good 20 minutes of it. But I had averaged 4 hours sleep the three nights before. And I really liked what I saw. I just… decided not to see all of it.
I Don’t Have a Name for Monday
Monday was… Monday. I don’t know. All the days roll into one. I had 8 hours sleep. It was amazing. Oh, yeah! I was hanging out with my brother and Dad, which was fun. We did the typical fringe thing, opening up our guides seeing what was on sometime soon and then going and seeing it. We saw Shylock and… something else. Which I can’t remember. What was it? Eek. Oh, yeah. Dad and I saw comedy. There were jokes about sex and penises and vaginas. It was awkward! Hooray!
I had a fabulous audience for Tuesday, which included (amongst others), my brother, my Dad and my friends. Yay for unconditional love! That afternoon we took some more punts on some more shows (some of which I may have almost fallen asleep in. Again, not an indictment on the quality of the work. Sometimes things are just tiring you know? And you’re sitting down and it’s dark, and the words are sweeping over you like a rhythm, like the ones on trains or buses and its just ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom… zzzzzzz….. ). One was terrible. TERRIBLE. I won’t tell you which. But I will tell you it had gotten 4 stars from someone! 4 STARS!!! Which is the most ridiculous thing ever and should be a lesson to you all about how shit and pointless reviews are (except for the ones that say nice things about me. Obvs.)
That night Dad took us out for a ridiculously amazing degustation menu (where you get loads of little gourmet courses) plus matching wine. Chris and I also campaigned (successfully) for the cheese platter to end. BEST DECISION EVER. Seriously, if you ever, ever want to spoil me completely and utterly (and who wouldn’t, let’s face it, I’m a doll) go out and get the bestest wine and a selection of the most amazing cheeses (little tip. Don’t buy it from Sainsbury’s) and bring it over to my house. That’s all I need. And also, if you do this, then I don’t think I’ll ever be able to refuse you anything ever again.
I was left alone again on Wednesday, which made me a little melancholy (Dad had to get home to Australia, Chris back to Oxford), but Chris and I managed to see one more show together and then get a delicious baked potato, so, hey, life isn’t too bad. That afternoon I had a delightful podcast interview with Three Weeks and comedian Luke Toulson which made me feel ever-so-special, even when I listened back to myself the next day and realised I had been speaking at a rate of knots for the entire interview. Do I speak like that all the time? I hope not. That must be anxiety inducing in you guys.
Anyways, after the podcast I was heading off to see a show (as you do) and I heard this man on his mobile saying over and over, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.’ Clearly the person on the other end of the line had bad reception (or was really pissed off) because he kept repeating it. It was kind of funny. I was in a good mood (because I was feeling special) so I smiled and as I did so, I happened to catch the eye of a middle aged man walking just ahead of me who had turned around. He turned to me fully and said, ‘Did you hear that?’ Thinking he was also amused by the odd repetition of the phrase, I smiled and said I had. The man said, ‘I don’t get it, I just don’t get it.’ At which point I stopped, thinking he was going to say something else. He did. He said he didn’t know why everyone was talking about him. Suddenly this didn’t seem to be making sense anymore. The man said, ‘Tony. That’s me. He said my name. Why did he say my name?’ I smiled a little cautiously and explained that the man hadn’t said Tony, what he said was ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.’ To which Tony replied, ‘No, no, wait. You said you heard it. You said you heard him say ‘I’m blaming Tony.’ So how could he have said all that and also, ‘I’m blaming Tony?’ He then started getting very worked up and saying that the same thing had been happening to him all the time, lots of people talking about him violently and aggressively all over the place. Realising what I had gotten myself into, I told him very gently that I was sorry he felt that way, but that the man hadn’t said what Tony thought he had said and that, furthermore, I had to get going because I was seeing a play. And I walked away.
I got to the venue and stood outside. A few minutes later I was aware that the man had followed me there. He saw me, approached and said, ‘I was talking to you. I was trying to explain something to you.’ I told him that I had to go to this show and that he should please leave me alone. I moved into the line for the show. He followed. He got right in my face (backed me into a wall) and started telling me that I was a little bitch, I was fucking rude and he was just fucking trying to tell me something. At which point I yelled out for help (please keep in mind I was surrounded, literally surrounded by people – I was standing in a fucking line) and no one did. So I called the police. Which I told the man loudly as I was on the phone. And, of course, as soon as I had done that, he walked away. Thereby making me feel even more ridiculous for the fact that I had yelled, that I had called the police, that I was now shaking and on the verge of tears and that no-one had helped. In all fairness, two people did ask if I was ok afterwards and chatted to me and calmed me down. But, still. To be so alone in a situation when you are surrounded by people is so strange. I also felt pretty shit that I had called the police on someone so obviously suffering from a mental health disorder. But I’m not sure how you are supposed to deal with that situation if you are not a trained doctor and/or social worker. It’s shit. He obviously needed help. And my only resource was to try and get him locked up? Even after the show I was pretty shaken and unhappy, so I called up my friend again and headed out to the New Town for drinks and dinner. Thank goodness for friends.
I Also Don’t Have a Name for Thursday
I don’t remember what happened Thursday. It was a day. A day in which things happened. And this is why I am attempting to blog EVERY DAY FOR THE LAST YEAR OF MY TWENTIES. Because memories die people! They die! And then it’s like you never even lived! That day never existed! I JUST LOST ONE OF THE LAST DAYS OF MY TWENTIES! I HAVE EVEN LESS TWENTIES THAN I DID BEFORE! I HAVE DEPRIVE MYSELF OF MY TWENTIES!
I did the show. I must have seen some other shows. I think there were people in them. Oh, yes, I saw all this performance poetry and word art stuff at the Free Fringe. Like, 4 shows in a row. It was my spoken word free fringe day. And then I went to work. Thank god. Got the day back.
Yesterday was Friday. It was a good day. It is disturbing how quickly your body can get used to only 4 hours sleep. I am going to get so much done when I get back to London.
Today was today. I don’t know, what do you want from me? A guy answered his mobile phone during my show. DURING MY SHOW. It’s not just that he didn’t switch it off. It’s not just that it rang. HE ANSWERED IT. I also bought 15 pounds worth of tights and socks at Primark. I don’t like to do things by halves. And now I must go to work. Like, right now. Like, I should have been dressed already. And yet I’m still typing. WHY AM I STILL TYPING.