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Edinburgh – Day 3

I am much remiss and several days behind on my Edinburgh write-ups. Now that I’m on the train home and hemmed in by a nice couple that got on at Alnmouth and a talkative lady that has told me the entire history of her life and that of her family (and who I will be sitting opposite for another 2 hours…) I have some nice dead time to try and remember what I’ve been doing over the last few days. It also gives me an excuse not to talk to the lady from Doncaster, who must surely soon run out of family members who have died, divorced or lost limbs.


Anyways, I got up late on Friday with nothing on my list of things to do and a big list of maybes. As such, I sat on my arse for a while and finally made the decision to wander towards The Stand to see Simon Munnery. It was an ok show, but his material slowly metamorphoses from Edinburgh to Edinburgh, it seems, and seeing him a couple of times since last year removed most of the surprises, even with Mac on drums and a new DVD of slightly random short movies.

I ran off without adjourning over the road for the after show continuation beverages (and reading of the random pieces of paper that people had stuck in the bucket at the front of the stage) and got over to the Surgeons Hall for Helen Arney‘s ‘8 1/2 Songs About Love (and Other Myths)’. Helen is another ex-Imperial College person and a friend of a friend, and one of my stated Edinburgh missions was to say hello from Steve and scare her. Unfortunately for the ‘scare’ part of the mission, it seems I have enough google juice that searching for “Helen Arney Edinburgh” brought me up on the first page, ruining the potential for surprise. Hello Helen if you have googled again. The show was pretty good, with some fun songs and an occasional wander into surreal territory that made me grin, and Helen seems to be enjoying herself almost too much. I am further inspired to start playing the accordion, although more on that in Sunday’s entry.

I ran off quickly after the show as I had another to go to – Trevor Lock. Formerly known as the man with the very small face on TMWRNJ, he has since transformed into a whirling ball of free association and strangeness, and he filled his hour with equal measures of playing with the audience and spitting out sequences of almost connected facts and strange situations. For an audience focused comedian having a french couple in the front row where the girl was translating everything as things went along is comedy gold. As was the man with elegant umbrella technique… Excellent.

It was at this point that I realised that darkness was falling and that I had consumed nothing but a bagel, a couple of pints and a restorative Irn Bru during the day, and a worrying hunger crash was approaching. In an almost biblical manner I was turned away from every restaurant due to not having a booking on a Friday during Festival season and ended up in Mamari’s kebab house. Thank you Mamari’s, without you I was certain to have become a small puddle of flesh on the rocky hillsides of Edinburgh. Or just had to go home a bit early.

Post kebab I wandered around a bit and finding nothing that interested me on the late show selection went back to the flat, investigated, for scientific reasons, some whisky and awaited my flatmates. They rolled in and thus began a strange few hours, involving singing, reminiscing and, in one case, the removal of trousers. There is some video, but the audio alone is too horrific for mortal ears…although the guilty now know the price if they ever cross me.

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