Expect the unexpected

Well, Monday last proved to be something of a challenge. I would have laid money on it not being possible for me to run anywhere with the amount of white wine (and bubbly) that was consumed the night before at The Magnets' after show party. And yet, at ten o'clock, I actually felt almost reasonable. The morning did seem to move quite slowly though - I had a lovely chat with Julia, who was looking after George, while everyone else remained unconscious (Jasper, not least, among these - he hadn't got to bed until 1am, with no nap the day before). Julia does voice coaching, so we had some interesting chats about warm-up exercises, which I wanted to explore as a potential Mask director (amateur dramatic groups tend, on the whole, not to warm up). All of a sudden, I realised it was nearly 11. This wasn't a problem per se, but I needed to get the training in, and I had a show at 12. I togged up, and went off to run around The Meadows, as my instructions were to do a short run the day after the long on, just to remind your legs that they can. I say these were my instructions, I was still on catch-up, using the ones from last week that I'd failed to carry out then.

On the street, the Garmin failed to find its satellite location for 10 minutes. I was freezing by the time it had asked me how many miles I was from the previous day, and the rest of its routine. I'd all but decided to ditch it, when it loaded up. Anyway, I'd figured on completing the run by half past, and didn't have  lot of leeway to play with, so as a result of this, I'd figured on twenty minutes. I ran around the Meadows, and up and across Bruntsfield Links, and then back down Warrender Park Road. I ran in, grabbed a croissant (well-known for its recovery goodness after a run), a shower, and got dressed. I said farewell to those awake, and, keeping my running shoes on (I learned, after running to Saturday's show in some not very appropriate footwear), I legged it. Handily enough, it took me about 10 minutes to get to the show, so in effect, I topped up my twenty minutes to the full half hour.

I grabbed some sesame snacks on the way - I just thought they might be better energy replacement. They seem kind of good for you, as snacks go, even though they are blatantly just sesame stuck together with sugar. I went to see Phil Nichol's show, Somewhere Beneath it All, a Small Fire Burns Still. It was really good, it's a monologue piece. Very funny opening, about this guy who is infatuated with a waitress, but then midway through the show, he acts like he's breaking off from the play and coming into "real" mode, just the actual actor, talking direct to the audience. He has the lighting people put up the house lights and everything, tells us that the story he's been acting out is based on real people, he opens a powerpoint, and shows us the young kid in a wheelchair, and the waitress. He tells us what the kid is suffering from, and how he was actually involved, and dated the waitress himself. He had photos of them. Then he says he's going to finish the show, and goes back into character. He's actually canadian, but was acting the part with a (very good!) Scottish accent - so it was really easy to believe him when he was out of character. It was impressive, how easily he slipped from one accent to the other as well. Anyway, I came out really wondering whether it WAS based on true characters that he knew. It was very hard to say. But the answer came from Mike - he knows the actor, and it was all part of the show, none of it was based on real characters. Fascinating! Also, the show was written especially with Phil in mind, that was kind of fun to know too! Anyway, most excellent, I can recommend it (now it is finished) - but maybe it will pop up somewhere?

Then I went off to see Mad About the Boy, and was disappointed to be standing next to "a talker" in the queue - more so because she was wearing some distressingly strong patchouli type perfume. Some people standing quite near us at the bar, and she thought one of them was famous, so she was seeking my confirmation. I had no idea, so I told her, quite bluntly and shortly. She persisted. I said, maybe you're right - I don't know. I don't have a television. Then she lifted the collar of her jacket (in case they were lip reading?) and said "They've got that sort of suntan, don't they?" What?!! I just gave her a fish-eye stare, till she shut up.

The show was intense. The boy, my new friend, was on stage, hoody up, goofy expression, dancing and mock-boxing to some hip-hop type music, as we trailed in. He looked terrifying. Like every gang of kids you've ever crossed the street as far away as possible, hoping they don't notice. When the show started, he was joined by two older men, one of whom was famous! Well, it was Cyril Nri. Followers of The Bill would pick him out straight away. The rest of you would too, I expect. He was playing the dad, and the other was the school counselor. There was a really interesting device used, whereby they were knocking words, ideas between them, really rapidly, but not actually having a conversation, it was more like three monologues that were in some way responding to the views of the others. It was like an amazing poem. Then the story developed more, and it all got a bit darker. It was a clever, moving, and uncomfortable experience. Bayo was fantastic.

After that, it was time to head back to the flat for a final tidy-up, before the last Magnets gig of the festival - and an early(ish) night. Just as well - I was shattered. Another great Fringe.

Scotland - less flat than Peterborough

Well, on Sunday morning, I donned my tracksuit, wired myself up to the heart monitor, and headed out. Given the lack of training over the last week, and the fact that I was going be running in Edinburgh (less flat than Peterborough) I decided that a circuit of Arthur's Seat, which should take about an hour from the flat, would be an excellent start. I went outside and turned the Garmin on, whereupon it started to tease me. It has to locate the necessary satellites, and often takes a few minutes to do this. Irritatingly, it has a bar that supposedly indicates its progress in this, but what actually happens, especially when you change locations, is that the bar indicates almost complete, and then drops back to half way. Sometimes it does this several times. I think it's going, "yep, yep, yep, Woah, it says we're in Edinburgh. That can't be right! I'd better check that again. Woah... still Edinburgh. Right, once more. NO!" Then it asks some questions, which go, "Are you indoors right now?" "Have you moved several hundred miles since you last used this?" (This part is true, by the way). Then it starts again. This is OK in Peterborough, where summer means that the temperature is, you know, over 16C, but let me tell you, ten minutes of this in Edinburgh, I had nipples like bullets.

Anyway. (I definitely overuse the word anyway). I set off eventually. I was struck by how much less friendly runners, and passers by generally, are in Edinburgh, than in either Thornbury or Chirk. Never mind. I suppose in cities you have more reason to be suspicious. I passed two American ladies out for a run, when I'd started my ascent of Arthur's Seat, and caught a snippet of their conversation "so all the hours of organising and making sure the clients were covered, has all been absolutely worthwhile, because I got to do THIS". Which made me wonder if she's always been looking forward to running around Arthur's Seat as some sort of dream goal, or whether she was enjoying the Edinburgh Festival.

I had a minor dilemma over which way round I should run Holyrood Park. I intended a complete circuit this time, so could choose - either downhill first, then a slow ascent, and then downhill again, or steep ascent, slow descent, and then a climb. I suppose in potential energy it shouldn't make too much differenece, but I decided that the second would bethe  more challenging option, and I needed challenge. I could tell you about managing to get my running nose to go down my throat without gagging, instead of down my face, and then almost choking, but you wouldn't thank me for it, so I won't. Oh, whoops.

On the way back home, I observed how quickly a light breeze reduced my warmth gained from running to shivers in an instant. Moments later I passed a lady wearing a green sari and a full length woolly winter coat, whose shoulders were hunched into the wind and we exchanged a meaningful glance that said - this chill is miserable, isn't it? Although in all honesty, her glance might equally have said - what on earth are you doing out dressed like that, in this weather? Generally I like having meaningful exchanges of glances with people, though it almost always happens in foul weather, I've noticed. (Mind you, I tend not to notice the more romantic sort...)

I somehow struggled all the way home, egged on by some heavy droplets of rain, and maintained a good spead of 10 m/m average, for my 6 miles, which I was pleased with. The shower helped warm me up, and I hastily set out to catch "Best of the Fest", which again, had a guest appearance from The Magnets (again, enabling me to a comp ticket). After the shenanigans of a ventriloquist, a card sleight of hand artist and an Australian comedian (who made me think of Sally, actually, as he recounted a problem he'd had with gulls waking him in the morning. In Australia, it was a couple of crows, and in Ireland, it was pigeons. But in Edinburgh, it was seagulls. He said they tapped on his window in the morning. And as he said, "But you know, your seagulls aren't just bird-sized, they're like 12-year-olds in costume" which I thought was remarkably true.). After the show, I set out to see a show by a girl I met at Andi Osho's show early in the month. I don't know what it was that had impressed me about her and her friend, but they both told me about their shows, and they sounded powerful stuff, so one of the things I really wanted to use my extra time for was to see their shows. Happily they hadn't sold out. Hers was called Dream Pill, and was about the sombre subject of sex trade of young girls from Nigeria.

I saw my friend in the ladies just before the show, and she remembered me, too, and seemed really pleased I'd come to her show - it was her last day. But, wow. It was brilliant. The two little girls (well, actually young women, but convincingly playing a 9 and 10 year old) were utterly charming, and we loved them straight away. It was with trepidation that we engaged with them. We knew this story wasn't going to have a good ending. And we were right. The innocence of the two girls made their horror story unbearable. It made me feel utterly helpless and genuinely horrified and sickened. I was in tears by the end of the show. I wanted to do some shopping, but my emotions were so intense, I felt it was only right to wait for the actress to come out so I could congratulate her. And her friend, who I'd met with her, was also waiting - like her, he remembered me immediately. He was delighted when I said I was coming to his show, Mad about the Boy, the next day. I was excited to learn that he had picked up a Scotsman Fringe First award earlier that week. It baffled me that Dream Pill hadn't had an award too, in all honesty.

Well, the evening held my penultimate Magnets gig for the 2011 Fringe, and had a drink with the Magnets and their fanbase, including Britta, who regularly travels over from Germany to see them (when they aren't touring there), proving that they do have fans more devoted than me (you can also replace that with "bonkers") and was actually celebrating her anniversary of the first time she saw the Magnets; then I was honoured to be a guest at the Magnets "aftershow party" (even though they hadn't quite finished, it made most logistical sense to have the party then) which was a meal in a delightful family-run Italian restaurant, Cafe Artista, in Marchmont. It was a merry occasion, with much vino consumed, and toasts made by all. I suggested a song for the owner, Bruno, which, once he understood that we weren't asking him to sing, seemed quite pleased, and certainly tapped his foot all the way through "I don't feel like dancing", which was sung by not just the boys, but all the "WAGS" as well. (I didn't spoil it, although I did hum along a little). Maybe the Magnets should consider broadening out a little...

Perhaps a little too much wine though... to really consider myself "back on track".

Crawl

Sunday's instructions were quite clear. It was either have a rest, or go for a swim. Now I know what you're thinking. You think I plumbed for the rest, don't you? You know nothing about the grit and determination that makes me tick. I did a search on my iPhone, and despite it giving me some duff gen the day before, it came up trumps with the swimming pool - there was one right around the corner from our flat, the Dalry swimming pool. Summer assured me that she had especially chosen the flat with me in mind. I set off, hoping it was a reasonable size - some of the old swimming pools are 20 yards, which irritates me - I always feel that you kick off at one side, and hit your head on the other side, and don't really get any proper exercise done. I was in luck, though, it was a 25 yard pool, which I estimated to be somewhere around 22.5 metres, not too bad. It was a glass-roofed building, which I also rather like, there's something nice about seeing the sunshine and the clouds. (Mainly clouds). One thing that surprised me was a dispenser that appeared to be full of blue plastic bags. I wondered if they were for wet costumes, but ignored them, as I've got through swimming for long enough without taking plastic bags. When I got to the changing area, there was an old lady with a full length duvet-coat, white trainers and blue bags over her shoes. I initially assumed she was out on day-release from a local asylum, before clocking that everyone had plastic bags over their shoes. It seemed rather wasteful to me, and I'm glad I didn't deign to put any on. I'm also not ruling out that the lady WAS on day release, she was still hanging round the lockers looking lost when I finished my swim an hour later.

I'm not very good at maths, or counting, as I think we've established, and I'm also not very good at swimming crawl, which was mainly today's task. But I liked the idea of swimming sets of five, because counting each set means that the odds are at one end and the evens at the other; and furthermore found that if I do a length of breaststroke halfway through, it really kept me on target with the counting. I was fine right up till my 11th set, where I was swimming breaststroke and was so tired, I didn't realise it wasn't crawl (honestly). So I thought I'd finished the set, but I hadn't. Anyway, I kind of made up for it, by getting to set 14 and doing two extra lengths for "cool down". I'm never entirely sure whether this does cool me down, because frankly, by the time I've swam 70 lengths, I'm going pretty slowly anyway, but I do my cooldown breaststroke, which is always a bit slower. I have to say, I was kind of impressed with myself. That's more front crawl than I have ever swam in my life.

Needless to say, the rest of the day got rapidly better. We saw a performance of Macbeth, starring Ashlea's friend Costa as Macduff. It was a brilliant performance all round, with an amazingly small cast, and parts shared out among them, although it was rather speeded up, to get the entire play into one hour and twenty minutes. There was a simple but effective set of weird bronze-like blocks of different heights, and a full moon projected onto a mirror, which had a range of different things appearing on it, including a dead raven in various states of bloodiness. By the end of the play, the blocks had cracks of red lit up as Macbeth became entrenched in his bloody battle for power. Macduff's speech when he found out that Macbeth had killed his wife and children brought a tear to my eye. Magnificent stuff, and I can't wait for it to come to Peterborough Key Theatre this autumn, when it will be full-length.

Later, our paths separated as Summer left us to see Monsters in the Hall, which she greatly enjoyed, and Ashlea and I went to the Bang Bang Circus, who had an amazing selection of wonders for us, including jugglers, bendy ladies, and hula hoop artists, and rather impressively, a man who balanced a full-size shopping trolly, and a bicycle (although not at the same time), on his chin. The whole show was seamlessly held together by Charlie Chaplin, whose silent-mime compering was amazing. It was rather let down by the venue, which made it hard to see some of the acts, but all in all, most enjoyable.

Next up, the main reason I was there - was to see Emma's new baby Dorrie! Well, also, The Magnets, who performed their usual astounding performance of a slick show with amazing singing and a fair bit of eye-candy to boot. I had a new victim, in the form of Ashlea, who enjoyed the show enormously, and excitingly, not one, but two repeat offenders, Summer and Daniel (he of the bicycle), who both seemed to enjoy their Magnets fix as well.  I remain, as an adoring fan, utterly in awe of all six of them. I had a chance to catch up with the boys after the show, as they were buying their flyer-ers a drink, as a gesture of good will. A very smart move on their part, I thought, and also one well-deserved, speaking personally as someone who has tried the task.

As a last ditch attempt to stay out after 10 pm, we went over to Niddry Street and watched some Free Fringe comedy that was called Dave Hoy's Stag Night. Apparently the Stag had been told by his fiancee that he could either do a show at Edinburgh, OR have a stag night, but not both. So his choice was to do a show about having a Stag night. It was quite entertaining, although truthfully, more so once we realised the acts were literally acting being drunk. They did it a bit too well... watching people who are behaving like tits isn't actually that funny, unless you are too. So we had to heckle. The Stag himself was heckled by someone who told him he was a "Poor Man's Milton Jones". He wasn't. He did rely heavily on some rather tired puns, but he had nothing like the comic timing and genius that is Milton Jones, and nor, sorry to say, the character and charm. But it was fun all the same.