Having gone off public transport a bit, I decide to drive today. The Gulf Stream was continuing to show off about just how much water it could dump on lowlands Scotland. So the normally swift motorway trip across Glasgow took ages. When I finally got to Edinburgh, I had to drive straight to a car park I knew there was a loo.
I had heard, on the bus the previous night, that Unison was going to strike today in Glasgow schools. What I hadn't figured was that Unison also looks after the public loos in Edinburgh: or, in the case of today, doesn't. I have to sit very still in the car for a while, reasserting control over seriously disappointed bodily functions. The map showed the theatre I'm looking for is quite close by, which helped.
The wet suit of choice in Edinburgh is the disposable plastic poncho. I think this is probably because the use of umbrellas is not allowed at the tattoo, so every shop supplies these with adverts on them. I remember that I have one in the boot, acquired at some charity event long ago. When I dig it out, it is adverting, of all things, Unison! I chose to rely on an umbrella.
When I get there, it's not the theatre I'm looking for: the map has lied to me. Fortunately, the gentleman (and I mean that) at the enquiry desk of this wrong theatre allows me use of the handicapped loo; and tells me the theatre I'm looking for is round the other side of substantial roadworks.
Originally, I had intended to see 'The Idiot Colony' today. The London Metro had praised it fulsomely, and it's description suggested I might enjoy my sister's view of it. But she copped out: probably couldn't face trudging round Edinburgh in the rain. So I had decided, for complicated reasons, to go to 'Deep Cut' at the Traverse. This had got the best of ratings from Scotland on Sunday; it was about the shootings tragedy at Deep Cut barracks. When I finally got to the Traverse, it was immediately apparent that this was Festival, and not Fringe. I felt guilty: not what I came to Edinburgh for. But, from what I had read, I actually wanted to see this. I joined the box office queue: which wasn't doing anything. Eventually, the attendant shouts "anyone not waiting for returns?" I leap forward. "oh, no, it's sold out for the entire run" she says, in a voice which suggests that I ought to have known that. She must have been puzzled by the look of relief on my face: my attempt at sinning had failed; I was being forced back to the fringe.
So I find myself at the Pleasance Dome getting a ticket for 'The Idiot Colony', as per plan A. The Pleasance Dome is down by the Medical School, beside the Student Union (which is rebranded as the Gilded for the duration) and E4's Underbelly.
Ticket organised, I now need some lunch. 'The Doctor's' proudly proclaims its devotion to real ale, so in I go. The beer is indeed good, but it is accompanied by loud 'Eurodance' music, such as is enjoyed by drunk children all across the Mediterranean from the Algarve to Corfu: not quite the right mood music for a wet Edinburgh lunch. So I decamp to the welcome quiet of Sandy Bell's, across the road, where, it turns out, they have a fine pint of Deuchar's IPA; and any number of ageing gents, there to enjoy same: a welcome discovery
'The Idiot Colony' is … well, it's symbolic: there's a lot of actions, and not much dialogue. The three main characters (the three cast members play some other parts) are clearly incarcerated in some asylum, and enact fragments of their past and current lives and feelings. Despite the symbolism (or perhaps because of it), it is really quite touching, without it being terribly clear, which is not easy to do. So it was not complete in itself (nor was it intended to be): it was very demanding of the audience, who were left with the task of reaching the conclusions necessary: why were they there; why were they being treated like that; why didn't they seem to mind? I wish my sister had come. Then I would have had the benefit of an outlook less cynical and jaded than mine.
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