Fringe Phobic

Today I finally saw Anna's play "The Exquisite Corpse" and was really pleased that I really liked it and it prompted lots of discussion about what all of the four of us who saw it thought was going on - the concept is that 15 scenes, not necessarily at all related, are shown in a randomly selected order which changes their meaning, tone and connectivity. Not that I was expecting any less of course - the show's already received a 4 star review from Three Weeks and I think it's likely to do at least that well with other reviewers over the coming days.

Unfortunately, as happens every fringe at least once the combination of theatre and unusual levels of cabin fever (houseguests!) came to a (relatively benign) head in the sort of conversation that leaves me irate that anyone who does not live in Edinburgh thinks that a visit every August equates to a knowledge of what the city is like the rest of the year. I get into this vortex of frustration at least once a year whether with my houseguests or strangers around town who consider a regular visit to the festival to equal residencey.

I do reserve a special anger for the small subset of people who insist on over dramatic greetings in the streets as if the whole city is a little London-on-holiday theme park. If the red bellied fry up eaters on the Costa del Sol are a working class embaressment to Britain I would suggest that the Londoners air kissing and slumming it with baffling superiority in Edinburgh in August should be seen to exhibit just the same sort of tunnel visioned shame for anyone living in the South of London.

Obviously this frenzied sense that everyone owns a piece of my adopted home is one of the more predictable side effects of living in this city with a World famous festival. It can obviously be fabulous but there are lots of negative side effects ranging from virtually unusable buses (depending on the route), raided shelves at Tescos (leading to scenes resembling the bread lines in the old Soviet bloc), dubious tap water (several times in recent years the drinking water has been declared "safe" but closely resembled a sample from a grotty pond) to a perpetual and extreme sense of extreme claustrophobia (even outdoors - the meadows looks like a particularly unruly mass barbeque when the sun comes out). And that's before you even touch the weird appearence of poor quality but expensive food and drinks venues, the booking out of all your favourite (and usually drop in friendly) restaurants, 20 minute queues for bathrooms... And the excreble (and humourless) street artists.

I'm not saying I can't deal with my home's freaky flipside but every year it takes me most of the month to get used to it. At the same time I get, somewhat inconsistently, enraged that each year the festival seems to get less and less national coverage - which seems odd since there is no qualm about covering local music and arts events elsewhere especially when they are in or near London. Scotland rarely gets arts coverage at any time of year so it seems especially sad that the reporting seemingly peeked with the Perrier and stand up glory days of the mid nineties. At least online coverage is now starting to gain in respectibility - a pleasant change since my earliest EdinburghGuide days when internet journalists were only just starting to make a mark on the press offices. Although something about the festival must be appearing on BBC2 on Tuesday night's Culture Show as they were filming (and substantially delaying) last night's patchy but mostly funny and charming Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre show.

The problem really is just that I picked such a lovely and (normally) equisitely middle class and interesting but discreet place to call home. I'm very happy here all damn year so I think it's understandable that I get rather overprotective and hacked off by the fair weather friends that flock for the month of August and a few days at Hogmany. At least I get a super birthday pressie come September 1st... They all fuck off home and leave us to our happy all year round menu of culture, classiness, usable wifi and just the few handfuls of japanese tourists and hen nighters to deal with...