I've realised that my naming convention for these posts is going to be confusing. It's not really Day 2. It was my third day in Edinburgh. But was the day of our second gig. Which, in turn, is different from the date of this post.
Oh, well. I doubt it will cause anyone too much distress (except for me, but I've gotten used to carrying distress round with me - I've knitted a special pocket!).
So, this day (Day 2, third day in Edinburgh, yesterday, Sunday) was less busy, and that was probably for the best.
(I've noticed a tendency to start too many sentences with "So". So I'll stop doing that. Ahaha.)
There was some general pootling about. That's right: pootling. I've never pootled before, but I believe it's mandatory in Scotland. On the other side of the famous St Andrews flag, there's a sketch of Robert the Bruce pootling his way around the Maldives.
I wandered around all Baudelairean-like. Well, if Baudelaire spent a couple of hours leafing through the Fringe programme making snide remarks in a hotel bar. Which I'm almost certain he did.
We saw a documentary about Malcolm Hardee and The Tunnel which was well worth seeing.
In the evening, we had our show. At first it looked like we'd have no crowd, but we managed to press gang a few strays into the venue. In the end we had a decent number of people.
I was on first and did badly. It was the same set as the day before, but this time they weren't going for it at all. I'm not sure whether to blame myself or the crowd, so I'll blame both.
It was a thoroughly disheartening experience (I think I've used that phrase many times, which should tell me something), especially after the fun of the night before.
Then I went back to my room and ate too much of a too big baked potato.
Glamourous, glamourous, glamourous.
I was probably going to write something profound there, but got distracted by looking up how many 'u's should be in glaumouruous.
No comments:
Post a Comment