Fringe the Fraught

Because the Fringe started later this year than last, it feels like it’s near the end when there’s still a week to go. Part of it’s because Jane and I will be busy elsewhere for a while, so it is the end for us. And it’s been a stressful month in other ways. At least the Fringe has been a diversion from that; but for me it brings its own demons. Year after year it’s a reminder that I’ve let a side of me stagnate that was once a source of great satisfaction, as I find myself wishing it was me up on that stage.

Fringe the Front

You thought it was going to be “Fringe the Furred”, didn’t you. And it was, except that the performers I’m about to review have shaved.

Fringe the Fecund

Yesterday was the last of the two-for-ones at the Edinburgh Fringe, which overcame any resistance I might have had towards venturing out in the worst weather this month. After dodging the sheets of water being sloshed off the Pleasance canopies by a guy with a broom, it was straight upstairs to see Laurence and Gus.

Fringe the First

A bunch of hairy Scotsmen entertain the crowds on the Royal Mile, Sunday 8 August 2004. Try a 10-second sample [66k mp3].

Every year I tell myself I’m taking a year off from Fringe reviewing, and every year I end up doing it anyway. And I haven’t even finished those extra batches of book reviews, or anything about the movies I’ve seen lately. Too late, they’ll have to wait: August is upon us, and with it the greatest arts festival on earth. As the weather teeters precariously between the gloomy fog of 2002 and the glorious sunshine of 2003, we’ve teetered precariously from a few pints at the bar to a few shows at the Pleasance.

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