Went across the bridge yesterday to share in the cultural behemoth that is Edinburgh just now, as we attended the play Beautiful Burnout which was put on by the National Theatre of Scotland. It’s about boxing and I won’t say much more in case you are going to see it, but it was very well performed. It thoroughly embraced the physicality of theatre; some plays are very worthy but they could dispense with the set and costumes since they’re simply about exposition. Anyway, we were pushed and shoved all the way down the Royal Mile by many happy thespians, all determined to stand out against the milling throng. To the lad dressed as a dragon, clutching the world’s only levitating chihuahua, you managed it.
We picked up the tickets at the box office and I would advise you, should you require to do this, to bring with you the card you used to pre-book. Nowhere on the booking advice email does it tell you to do this, and when we are going Fringeing we leave at home as much as possible, since it’s a Godsend for pickpockets. This includes credit cards. So, we sorted that one out and went for some lunch, which was ok but did lead me to wonder how few vegetables may be put on a plate which, en masse, still qualify as a salad. To wit, one lettuce leaf (small) one slice of cucumber and an eight of a tomato. Shame, since Biblos on the corner of Chamber Street has a great location for people watching. Went to the play, then went over to the Book Festival to nose around; having already accidentally bought three books in Blackwells I was sorely tempted but did not make any purchases. Although, much as I love the Bookfest, the shop is misleading, they have several titles filed under multiple categories so you do tend to keep seeing the same ones over and over again. But the whole gig was set up by a woman who was in the year above me at high school, and a jolly fine job she has made of it. Mrs Ovens must be very proud.
Came home on crowded train, and the message to all you travellers out there is still the same – however hard you try to bagsy the seat next to you with your shopping, I will ask you to move it if it means that I do not have to stand. It is unutterably selfish of you to assume otherwise. And I am a genial cove, I will sit quietly and not disturb you since I will either be reading, thinking or bankrupting myself trying to install the Opera4 mini browser on my phone. Regular readers of this stream of consciousness will know that I have spent a large part of my life on trains. I don’t do nutter and I will insist on good behaviour.
Still no news re baby Cook.