Capacity crowds and no one more amazed than us!

Edinburgh is beautiful but it is not flat. Until you've got your bearings, you will be doing several cardiac work-outs just trying to get from your bus stop to your venue. They say that J. K. Rowling got her idea for the moving staircases at Hogwarts from the stone steps in Edinburgh that seem to lead somewhere different every time — but always to more steps.

We're four performances in now and, thanks to Fringe Central's excellent 'how to make your show noticed' session, we are flyering like pros. To flyer someone successfully, you need to pick your people carefully and engage them in genuine conversation. For us, picking 'our people' is quite simple: middle-aged couples and groups. Obviously some of them aren't our people and give us the equivalent of a flip while passing on but, hey, we're vicars. We can forgive them. :-)

I even managed to forgive the woman dressed like the most stereotypical witch you've ever seen, including green make-up. I thought I'd say 'hi' and complement her outfit but she swore at me in either Czech or Slovakian and waved her broomstick at me threateningly. Bloody foreign witches, coming over here and stealing our jobs...

Kate had the brilliant idea of flyering a troupe of middle-aged singers performing on the Royal Mile. Every single one of them took a flyer (and they were, at the very least, the types who would recycle them). And as for Ravi - well, he's a natural! About every ten minutes we lost him because he was deep in conversation with someone, charming the M&S pants off them.

Sofi's Southside is a lovely little bar just five minutes from the Fringe Central with seating for about 40 people max. Um ... we may have a venue that's a little too small! On our first night, we had six people, which is not bad for starters but that trebled on night no. 2 and for the last two nights we've been at full capacity! Can't tell you how delighted we are about that.

It's lovely that people have simply found us in the brochure and thought they'd take a punt, it's wonderful that old friends and friends of friends are turning up out of the blue and it's just great that people we've given flyers to, actually turn up! It's also terrific fun to experience ourselves referencing back and forward to each other during the show as we get to know each other better. We are not only performing together, we are living together too. And nobody has died yet!

But God, is it tiring! I went down with a cold on day three so not at my best but it's also hot here and we're not as young as we think we are and are slightly prone to hysterical laughter when Google maps tells us that our destination is ten minutes' walk away 'mostly flat.' That's flat if you have a helicopter. Or a broomstick.

Another part that's fun is getting feedback from Kate when she and I are going somewhere together (Ravi is always strides ahead, engaging with everyone). Kate can see the expressions on people's faces when they see my rainbow dog collar and relays them back to me. They vary somewhat drastically at times. :-)
However, I was stopped by one young man and practically begged to go and take part in The Big Gay Story Slam one evening. Can't wait! (it's for LGBTQ folks and allies so I do qualify).

As we settle in, we're starting to have the energy to go and see other shows, although it's astonishing how many shows I'd like to see are on at the same time as we are. Will have to work on the bi-locating.

We know we're getting at least two reviews — from the in-crowd, Premier Christian Radio were in two nights ago and both Kate and Ravi wisely suggested I dropped all my 'Dartmoor witch' material... And we have Church Times on our last night so I guess that will be witch-free too. Still, the great thing about so many years of comedy is you can always drag up a properly ancient joke and drop it into a gap. It will be fascinating to see what other reviews we may get.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 18, Part One. Arfur Smif.

Today I went to see Arthur Smith Sings Leonard Cohen Volume Two. Lion and I had seen an excerpt from vol. one at the Bath Comedy Festival back in the spring when I was one of three people opening for Arthur's set. He was such a delightful man, friendly and open and nothing like as miserable as he likes to appear. Or at least he was putting on a very good front. And he was very encouraging about my act — and even follows me on Twitter. Not that he ever does anything else on Twitter...

Anyway, I'd tweeted that I was going and that I hoped to get a hug. I'd had an Arthur Smith hug before and it was a good one. And I'm missing my dear, lovely scruffy bloke and our cuddles and I thought it would be really good to have a hug from another dear, scruffy bloke.

So I sent him a direct tweet that said 'Coming to see you tomorrow. Any chance of a hug?' No reply but none expected.

I went to the show — and frankly I was blown away. Arthur is backed by an excellent girl group called The Smithereens which really transforms the show into a concert and he mixed comedy with tragedy with anecdote with song.

Now I love Leonard Cohen's songs. I just never liked Leonard Cohen singing them. One of my favourite albums of all time is Jennifer Warnes' cover album, Famous Blue Raincoat, and the duet with Leonard on Joan of Arc is one of my favourite songs of all time.

But oddly enough, even though he sounds like Leonard Cohen, I really like hearing Arthur Smith sing his songs. And I just sat there in this big, black theatre for an hour entranced. I can't emphasise enough just how good this show was. It took us to hilarity and then made the stars bow down for pity minutes later.

And there's lots that's rude about Leonard Nimoy's poetry.

At the end, I hesitated and wondered if I should just leave with the others. Apart from anything else, Arthur had looked impressively smart and star-like on stage whereas he had been really scruffy in Bath. It was a different thing approaching someone more distant and obviously famous.

I waited for the crowd to leave and asked God what He thought. And then I saw Arthur wandering backstage, on the phone to someone. So I waited a little longer.

Three other people were waiting to talk to him and he came out and chatted with them all in the way that celebrities do; very polite and interested but carefully detached. I just waited. Then he turned to me and I said, "Maggy. Bath Festival." His eyes lit up with recognition and he just held his arms out.

It was a lovely hug. And I noticed that he was wearing his smart tee shirt inside out. Thank you Arthur.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 17 — Memories and Laughter

I could live here. I think that every time I take the 44 bus into town and as we go down the hill from Colinton I can see the whole city and its castle before me and onwards to the sea. I think that every time I take the 44 bus out of town and the moorland hills emerge through the houses and the trees to my right.

Though I'm not sure I'd want to live here at Fringe time. It's like Oxford Circus at Christmas out there at the moment!

Today I went to see a "Rock 'n' Roll Radio" with Roland Gent at the Free Sisters Pub in Cowgate. That was a bit of a challenge given that there was at least one very drunken wedding reception taking place and Roland's room 'The Staff Room' had no windows, made a prison cell look attractive and was right next to the lavatories. It was so hot that we had to keep the door open so not a peaceful gig, you might say.

But it was fun. I thoroughly enjoyed Roland's comic reminiscences about music and radio stations when DJs were actually allowed to play their own choice of music. Being ten years older than Roland, I remember it well — I was allowed to play my own choice at both Hereward Radio and BBC Radio WM. The management didn't like it so I'm probably partially responsible for the modern-day regime where all the music is selected across the board for about six stations at a time.

I enjoyed remembering the first 45 I ever bought (The Carnival is Over by the Seekers) and the first LP (The Monkees) and as Roland was also a newsreader that brought back some good memories too. I was a newsreader at BBC London when the esteemed Chris Morris of The Day Today fame was a DJ. He was a total liability back then because he'd go straight into the news with a joke instead of a record and a jingle. On days when there had a been a tragedy or something similar, that was a bit hard to deal with...

And I remember the day that Andy Peebles was in a complete hissy fit because there was no engineer to run the tapes for the show after his and he was not prepared (quite rightly) to stay on and change the tapes on the hour. Fortunately, having been a DJ, I was able to volunteer to do it for him and I did. I wrote a memo to the then boss, Matthew Bannister, telling him that there had been an oversight so that it wouldn't happen again and never got another shift at that station so I obviously pissed someone off with my helpfulness that night...

But I digress...

When I went to see The Lunchtime Ferrets a few days ago I was impressed at how their compere, Paul Wogan, encouraged the audience to laugh. It was a simple technique: he told us to laugh. Then he got us to practice.

Now, I know I'm funny, but I was getting a lot more quiet chuckles than outright bellowing so I've adapted his practice and done a short introduction before I start my routine. It has made an astonishing difference!

For the last three nights, I've had belly-laughs, cheering, clapping and snorting (good snorting). So I am a very happy bunny. When the audience laughs out loud, the comedian gets better. It was a lovely crowd tonight with two Facebook friends ... one of whom, Dee, is reading this blog and knew the saga of my absent, rampaging socks. No, they have not turned up. So Dee had bought me a new pair.

I'm very touched and, as with most presents, they are not a pair I would ever have bought for myself (having cats on them). But I love presents like that. They will always be easily identifiable as "my Edinburgh socks." And I'm not letting them out of my sight.