Fringe Cuts #3

It's my 52nd birthday today. And, at the moment, I'm feeling all 18,962 days of it. The ankle is getting less painful although still very swollen and my lardish body is still catching up with the last few manic weeks.

And talking of lardish bodies, here's my final Edinburgh post.

This hugely scary person is Red Bastard. He's one of the best audience participation clowns I've ever seen and he works an audience brilliantly. It's not a show for the faint-hearted or anyone who thinks that they'll just 'stand at the back and not be noticed'. He'll notice you, I promise. And he's very persuasive. He has people kissing strangers, taking off items of clothing, shouting at their partners ... it's all very intense. But it's very funny too as long as you're not the monkey to his organ-grinder. The show was worth going to see if, for no other reason, I doubt he'll transfer easily to TV. Quite unique.

I didn't have time to see many shows (even fewer when my Day 3 was written off by injury) but I did get to see a fair bit of street theatre and a fascinating Skeptics on the Fringe talk by Professor Sophie Scott all about sex differences in the brain.

I did some more walking about too. I took a stroll down to Greyfriars Kirkyard - home of the Greyfriars Bobby legend (emphasis on the word legend there) - and had a look around.

The word 'dour' seems to have been invented for the Scottish temperament and for the rather dull stone with which most of Edinburgh is built. Certainly, the various memorials and tombs in Greyfriars all have a kind of bleak Hammer-Horror ghastliness about them. No shiny marble or fudgey Cotswold here. Just cold grey stone and black pig iron.

I then took a stroll back up through the Royal Mile, noting the hundreds of posters and flyers attached to the Virgin-sponsored pillars ( a good idea to prevent bill sticking on the dour stone walls), the occasional pavement art and odd chalk graffiti.

I also found a shop that wasn't a tartan shop, a souvenir shop or a cafe. But it had gone out of business. Very possibly because it probably did no trade for 50 weeks of the year.

A final stroll up around the area near Edinburgh Castle and that was my lot.

As I said yesterday, my trip home to Buckinghamshire was somewhat fraught and painful but I can't deny the beauty of the North East coast and the views from the train window were wonderful and blessed with sunshine.

I miss Edinburgh already.

Maybe I'll be invited back next year?

Fringe Cuts #2

My first full day in Edinburgh didn't afford me much time to take in more than a couple of gigs so I used the time to explore the city centre a little. I've only ever been to Edinburgh a couple of times before and I was too busy then to give much time to gadding about.

Running through the centre of the city is an extended hill called the Royal Mile that includes the High Street and Canongate. Running parallel to the south of it is a road that is called, at various stages, Holyrood Road, Cowgate and Grassmarket. Between these two thoroughfares run various streets and what the Scots call closes; long cobbled alleyways. This is the area I set out to explore for an hour or two.

From Grassmarket, I set off towards Cowgate where you pass under the George IV Bridge which carries George IV Street pedestrians and traffic high above your head.

The bridge was built between 1829 and 1834 and, like most of the buildings in Edinburgh, has a massiveness to it; a monolithic quality. Everything is big and blocky in this city, even the new builds. As you walk further along Cowgate, you're dwarfed by the buildings around you. This Gothic looking hostel even had gargoyles at roof level.

Heading east along Cowgate, every so often, you pass a road or a close on your left that, if you're willing to yomp up the steep gradient, will take you up to the High Street. Here's the view up Niddry Street (where my gig was).

I decided to walk to the end of Cowgate and then double back and walk up a rather attractive little close I'd passed called South Gray's Close. I'm glad I did because at the end of Cowgate I found a TARDIS specifically designed for a Time Lord raised on deep-fried Mars Bars.

I also found the Kilberry bagpipes shop in St Martin's Street with a craftsman on site making them. The smell of turned wood and oil was delicious. The shop is double fronted and the left-hand window looks onto the workshop. Turning back, I headed to South Gray's Close. This was lovely and the buildings I found there were the smallest I saw during my three day visit. Chief among them was the beautiful St Patrick's Redemptorists' (whatever they are) building with its twisty trees. Limes, maybe?

This brought me up onto the High Street. It was still early and the revels had yet to begin (I started my walk at 8am). The High Street is living testimony to the power of tourism. Anything that isn't a café or souvenir shop is a tartan shop. I wonder how they do any trade with so many packed so close to each other.

I wandered around several of these shops, happily playing the witless visitor and finding myself surprised by the fact that they all seemed to be run by Sikhs. I must speak to Hardeep Singh Kohli and ask him if he knows why. Surprisingly, they all claimed to have a tartan for Colgan despite it being a name of Irish origin. To be honest, I suspect they'd have had one for Chang, Obelszyski, Goldberg, or Zorgon of Alpha Centauri too if I'd asked. I strolled up the High Street on the south footpath passing other closes on the way (there's a full list of them here).

Finally, I came to George IV Street (incorporating the bridge I walked under at the start) and walked along a short distance before turning right down the hill of Victoria Street and the West Bow that leads down to Grassmarket. It's this hill that you saw in the old engraving yesterday of Maggie Dickson's execution. Two views, looking up and down:

Another walk tomorrow and my final Edinburgh diary. And my birthday!

Oh, and here's a map of my route. Click on it to enlarge.

Fringe Cuts #1

I'm just back from three days in Edinburgh and a performance of my 'Skeptical Bobby' talk at the Fringe Festival. And what a three days it was. I've never seen the streets so packed - I assume the good weather has helped immensely. Up and down the Royal Mile, you could barely squeeze a fag paper between the heaving bodies. This was taken at 9.30am when the day had barely started.

You walk up and down the streets (literally- everywhere is hills) and see things that you rarely see anywhere else:

I was staying in a flat in Grassmarket, once a bit of a notorious dive but now a nice pedestrianised area of cobbles, shady trees, cafes, fossil shops, and a small crafts market. My room was on the fifth floor and had a shared kitchen area and balcony with a commanding view of the castle and tattoo:

Grassmarket used to be the site of one of Edinburgh's execution gibbets. The most famous hangee was one Maggie Dickson, who lived in the early 18th century. In 1723 her husband deserted her, forcing her to leave the city and move further south to Kelso near the Scottish Borders. Here, she worked for an inkeeper and started an affair with the Innkeeper’s son which led to her becoming pregnant. She concealed the pregnancy for as long as possible and the baby was born prematurely and died within a few days. Maggie planned to put the baby into the River Tweed, but couldn't bring herself to and finally left it on the riverbank. But the tiny body was discovered the same day and traced to Maggie who was charged under the Concealment of Pregnancy Act and sentenced to death. She was taken back to Edinburgh for public execution at the Grasssmarket on the 2nd September 1724. After the hanging she was pronounced dead and her body was bound for Musselburgh for burial. However the journey was interrupted by a knocking and banging from within the wooden coffin. The lid was lifted to the sight of Maggie, very much alive. The law saw this as God's will and she was freed. Maggie lived in Edinburgh for a further 40 years and as 'Half Hangit Maggie', became something of a local celebrity. Here's an old image of Grassmarket from the period plus a photo I realised I'd taken from a similar position. You realise how old the city is when you see that many of the same buildings are still there today:



Maggie is commemorated by two pubs, The Last Drop and the eponymous Maggie Dickson's where I attempted (and beat) their famous 'Full Scottish' breakfast.

 

And talking of pubs, I also sank a few pints of Deuchars in what is touted as Scotland's smallest pub - the 17" by 14" (or three barmaids) wide Wee Pub (also in Grassmarket) - and the Banshee Labyrinth in Niddry Street, which is allegedly Scotland's most haunted.

 

 

 

(Photo: Daily Record)



The Banshee Labyrinth was also where I was doing my show as part of a month long Skeptics on the Fringe programme of talks by people such as Professor Richard Wiseman, Dr Simon Singh, Rhys Morgan, Dr Matt Parker and many more. My gig went well except for a moment of pure slapstick when, as I walked up to the stage, I slipped on a stone step and fell flat on my face in front of a packed house. Joy. However, I got up and did the gig ... slowly shifting to putting all of my weight onto my right leg as I'd twisted my left ankle and knee quite badly and they were swelling nicely. Despite this, the show seemed to go well and I've started to get some favourable reviews.

(Photo: Jo Hockey)

The next day I woke to find that I could barely put any weight on my ankle, which curtailed me going and seeing very much on my last day, so I'm glad I packed in as many shows and walkabouts as I did during the first two days. Of course, the ankle also meant an excruciating six hour journey home in a succession of trains and taxis punctuated by painful hobbles along platforms. And, as that bastard Fate would have it, every train I had to catch was at the furthest possible walk from the departure boards.

Ah well. A great three days. Tremendous fun. I'll do another post about my walkabouts tomorrow. Well, later today as it's the wee hours of Saturday now.

Oh, and huge thanks to the Edinburgh Skeptics - especially Keir Liddle, Dawn Gyles, Stephen Makin and Diane Waugh - for making me feel so welcome, for looking after me and for being great company over a beer or seven. A lovely bunch of people. x