I must have walked up and down this street, and countless others like it, dozens of times over the weekend. It would explain why my calves are squealing in agony today.
As Marcus Brigstocke observed, Edinburgh is a city where you can set out to go somewhere and walk uphill, and on the way back to where you came from you somehow still find yourself walking up a hill!
Log fired haggis pizza. That is all. Once I discovered the existence of this it was pretty much all I ate.
I feel like I’m saying this an awful lot lately, but going to the Fringe alone made me really crave the company of another person. I mean, I kinda like the freedom of doing things by myself, but I can’t help but think that there were so many great things I might have missed because I didn’t have the input of someone else.
David O’Doherty’s song about how Lance Armstrong ruined his life between 1999 & 2005 was probably my highlight of the weekend.
Starting drinking at 11.30 on a Sunday morning was both a novelty and a bad idea.
From my strictly non-scientific research, I would gauge that the majority of festival-goers are not Scottish.
Probably the best thing about the Fringe is accidentally discovering something great, especially when the act looks completely bonkers. In The Banshee Labyrinth on Saturday evening I saw “Rythmn Method”, which was a group of comedic musical poets comprising of The AntiPoet and Mark Niel – with the latter apparently being the official Poet Laureate of Milton Keynes. They turned out to be very enjoyable Saturday evening entertainment, despite their appearance.
Avenue Q was well worth the wait.
Having thought about it, I now think that Edinburgh is less like Lord of the Rings and more Game of Thrones.
I can’t believe I’m almost 30 and had never done a weekend at the Edinburgh Festival until now. I’m already looking forward to next year.