Week One

Date: 7/8/2011
Author: Josh

So, it’s Sunday, I think? That would mean I’m 6 days in to Edinburgh. I’m writing this from a Weatherspoons, taking up valuable table space from legitimate paying custom. I bought a coffee about an hour ago and I’ve been shielding it, pretending to drink for some time. My crippling internet addiction has taken a beating over the past week, as we can’t really seem to find wifi anywhere, so I hope Peter is your favourite flavour, as he’s the only one with regular, un-cloud based internet.

We’ve performed three times. As you heard, opening night saw a relatively modest crowd, due to rain, but audience figures have increased every show, so far. Yesterday we had an impressive 55 people, and I was chuffed at the way the guys on stage managed to keep that many people captivated for that long. One big test for us has been the layout of the room. I’ll explain: We are separated from another show by nothing but a curtain at the bar. This other show uses videos and music and generally sounds very upbeat and funny, which is grand, but the downside for us is that we aren’t mic’ed, and we’re in a literal cavern. Acoustically we can’t compete with Octopus’ Garden. (Fucking Ringo)

I’ve chatted to the other guys, who are all lovely, and hopefully we can compromise. I was in a bit of an awkward position, as they really are great people, and their show definitely relies on volume (they’re getting decent crowds, too, so I don’t want to jinx them), but at the same time, we are being drowned out. We hit about 50 people, and anyone coming in and sitting behind them inevitably leave because they are closer to the other stage than us.

What it’s taught me is that free fringe is an exercise in thinking on your feet. You get no time to prepare, no rehearsal time, nothing. You get your hour and that’s spent helping the (amazing and definitely bound-for-stardom) Sheep Ahoy! man, Phil, remove his mammoth set so you can start on time, then doing the show, then as soon as the applause has died, you’re either collecting money from people or clearing the stage as soon as you can.

If we have a problem (and we invariably do - every show), we need to fix it during the next show. It’s amazing and exciting and alive, but, well, exhausting. If we were out there, dying every show, this would be a tough city to be in. Luckily we seem to be being received well so far. I’m sure there will be days and maybe weeks when we won’t go down so well (illness is already beginning to strike the cast) and I won’t want to get out of bed [the floor] in the morning [afternoon].

I’ll try and write again soon, my love, but I fear the final push is coming. Send my love to your family. Except Paul. That guy’s a douche.

Josh