This is now yesterday, though would have been today if I'd started this post fifteen minutes ago. It was Sunday though. By anyone's standards. Even the standards of Ra.
And he was stringent at best.
This morning I walked to Holyrood Park, with the intention of going up Arthur's Seat. (Hey, that sounds a bit like innuendo! I wonder if anyone else has noticed that...) I only got about a third of the way up before being exhausted. I also realised I was afraid of heights, so it took ages to get back down the precarious stony path.
I walked though the park. It was a glorious day - full of optimism and dogs in ponds. One of those days.
I watched the Liverpool-Arsenal game in the pub. As usual with pubs with multiple screens showing the game, I couldn't commit to one screen. I had to keep changing my view, as though one of them might show me a perspective that the other one lacked, like a shot from inside the folds of Roy Hodgson's ears, or an x-ray view showing the players' bones and genitals.
I did some more awkward flyering. I spoke about it in my stand-up set. Flyering is a chance to relive every social rejection of my adolescence in microcosm. Every attempt to give someone a flyer highlighted my social inadequacy, my desire to please, my ability to be both terrified and disturbing. I'm so bad at flyering, I end the day with more flyers than I started with.
We were all in a bit of a funny mood during the afternoon, and it continued into the gig. It was a bit of a disaster.
I don't know if it was fatigue or mischievousness, but things never really felt on track. We messed around and didn't get many laughs. Though I went on at the end, and quite enjoyed it. I don't think it was an awful gig - I think the crowd were bemused, rather than offended. But it was still something I'd rather not repeat.
On Wednesday, we had a silly, self-indulgent gig that was fun and enjoyed by all. This was the other side of that coin. It was a dark side.
It was still quite cool, though. As long as it doesn't happen again. Apart from last Sunday's gig, I haven't really hated any of the ones we've done, which is a real plus.
And now there's only two more to go!
I'm more than ready to go home, but I do feel sympathy for my poor readers, who won't have many more of these erudite and insightful Edinburgh diaries to look forward to.
I'm terribly sorry. But I'm sure I'll be able to revert to my pre-Edinburgh blog technique of starting writing from a standing position, pirouetting, and driving text into the ground like a drill of titanium and whimsy.
It will be good to explore that fertile ground once again, under the heavy-lidded eyes of the world.
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