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.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 16 — Tickets for Arfur and Half-Price Food.

I'm trying to get to see Arthur Smith. We performed together at the Bath Comedy Festival back in May with Tracey Collins and James Michael Alderson and had a great time. Arfur is doing his 'Sings Leonard Cohen' act, part two, starting today. But for some reason it's getting to be a bit of a challenge to get tickets.

I tried online but for some reason the Edfringe website decided that it totally hated me and everything my debit card stood for, so I decided to go into town and buy them at the Fringe office on the Royal Mile.

Before that, though, I had to get over my excitement at my first review. It's for a site called TVBomb and I remember the young man who came along a few nights ago. I think it's an excellent review. It includes some good constructive criticism too. Here it is:

There is a great need for a performer like Maggy Whitehouse – an outspoken, slightly sweary female Catholic priest (don’t worry, she explains how this is possible) – it makes a refreshing counterbalance to the Robin Ince/Brian Coxatheist axis that has been in unchallenged ascendancy. Not that she’ll be taking them on directly anytime soon, mind you. As she herself admits before the performance, she’s not in Edinburgh seeking stardom, just an experience.

Hers is a light intellectual humour of the QI or Radio 4 variety, ripe for the knowing smirk rather than the belly laugh. More conversation than stand-up routine, it would play well to a village hall or provincial studio theatre, if not perhaps the sparse pub back room crowd she faces here.

Given the setting, it would of course be tempting for her to fall into the ‘funky vicar’ stereotype. Thankfully, despite the occasional cursing and insistence on how much she loves alcohol, she stays just the right side of that. Instead, material includes a nice dissection of the Catholic church’s stance on homosexuality and an interesting anecdote about her near namesake Mary Whitehouse’s knickers from her time spent in TV broadcasting. Yet not everything is that accessible. A decent working knowledge of religion is a distinct advantage in audience members and, even then, it is easy to lose the thread during her lengthy alternative readings of Bible passages.

She could also afford to be more confident at the mic. There are some good lines which would be enhanced if only she seemed sure she was going to get a laugh. A little more light and shade to her delivery would help too, so that the boundaries between gag, anecdote and theology lesson leap out more.

By no means, then, is this a show for everyone, but the Fringe is a richer place for people like Maggy Whitehouse going against the comedy grain. Who would have thought that religion would become the new ‘alternative’?

Thank you TV Bomb.

On the way in to town, I stopped off at a couple of charity shops I'd spotted on the road into Ryrie's (as you do) and found a lovely brand-new tee shirt in a shade of pink I'd never even have looked at before I'd done Carol Tuttle's Dressing Your Truth online course a couple of months back. Also, the perfect belt for my denim outfit. And I saw a couple of shops with comedy posters on the walls and windows and was able to add a couple of posters for my show. Hooray.

All my brochures and posters were delivered straight to Ryrie's, where they (with the other performers' stuff) are kept in the cellar with the beer kegs. We're meant to get permission to go down there (health and safety, I expect) and some of the staff will go for us but some of the staff won't so we go through the creaking door halfway up the stairs and clamber down into the depths of hell ourselves.

First you have to do a limbo dance under a bar across the top of some raggedy steps, then you have to duck so as not to bang your head and, when you're down there, you have to try and avoid not only a maze of silver barrels but also the drips and treacherous puddles from the lack of damp proofing.

This time, as I was down there, the grumpiest of the staff turned up too (the assistant manager) and did a sort of 'hurrumph' of annoyance when he saw me. A bit tired of his ongoing surliness I smiled at him and said, 'would you mind my asking if you find us performers a bit of a pain?'

He replied, 'yeah, a bit.' So I said, 'How ironic to have to pay £300 just to be a nuisance to the people at your venue.' I didn't say it nastily, I said it just to give him the information. He looked surprised.

'You pay to be here?' he said.

'Yes, I thought part of that money went to Ryrie's for rent,' I replied.

He shook his head. This was all news to him. 'You pay to perform here?' he said again.

'We do. And on top of that we have to pay for transport to Edinburgh, accommodation and food,' I said. 'It's a labour of love.'

He shook his head again and then gave me his first ever smile. When I got back to the pub later it was to be informed that soft drinks were free for performers ... and that we could eat there half price. I think that's a win.

Anyway, the next thing I did was take the tram and then walk to the Royal Mile to get my tickets for Arfur, only to find an enormous queue. If I'd stood in it long enough to get my ticket, I'd have missed my own show.

Somewhat discouraged, I returned to Ryrie's, only to find the Lunchtime Ferrets and sundry friends and relatives were my audience for the night. This was an utter, utter delight because these people know how to laugh. They didn't do the quiet chuckles of the polite middle-aged people who are my usual audience, they did guffaws and snorts and bellows of laughter. I had a ball and, I think, so did they.

Back home in my little turquoise sanctuary, I made one final bid to get tickets online for Arfur. After lying to me that there were still tickets for tomorrow and then spitting me out at the very last moment because that show is now sold out, the site graciously condescended to allow me to get me one for Sunday. I'm proud of my perseverance ... but he'd better give me a hug when I get there...

Oh, and finally, in response to FB friend Jane Clement's anxious enquiries, yes I did get the flannel. It was reduced in price at Boots. We Taureans do like a bargain.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 14 — The Dreaded Helpful Heckler.

Have to admit it's been a bit of a weird day. None of it went as planned but then why should it?

I was planning to do some washing and then go into town for a potter, a bit of leaflet distribution around some hotels and to buy a new flannel (I can just feel your excitement rippling from here).

It's cleaner day, new bedding day so it's a bit like childhood 'clean up your room' morning. I tidied everything up, got everything off the floor and stripped my bed. Every single day at that time, so far, I'd been in the room doing some writing or reading in the morning but today I was outside in the garden playing with the dogs.

Which is why I wasn't there when the painting fell off the wall, smashing its glass and sending it in all directions.

The nail's still in the wall so there was no reason for it to happen. And the painting's of a peace dove with the caption 'give peace a chance' so that's a bit ironic. My healer and homeopath both said (when I told them) what basically amounted to this: "Bugger peace — you are supposed to go out and smash it, have the adventure. You are learning to harvest and use the energy."

There may be a little more to it than that. The last two nights have been very restless with the feeling that something was trying to get out. Maybe it has. Time will tell.

Anyway, the lovely Anne-Marie cleared it all up — wouldn't even let me help — and the picture's back on the wall. I've got some holy water and some cleansing essence so I'll just make sure before all the same.

So, the next step was to go into town. But my friend Adam got in touch on Skype and that was two hours gone before I knew it.

Adam is coming to Edinburgh for the rest of the Fringe next Monday. He's a dear, dear friend and he'll be coming to the show, treating me to lovely suppers and accompanying me to a load of shows. Lovely. But he's a bit of a worryer. So we spent most of the afternoon tracing routes between where he will be staying, where I'm performing, where we'll eat the first night — and the second night — and looking at some shows online.

Before I knew it, I was going to have to get going pretty darn fast even to get to Ryrie's on time! The best laid plans etc...

Tonight I thought that I'd dress up a bit. I've been wearing jeans but I've got a lovely peacock jacket and silk trousers with me so I wore those instead. And two people turned up. There's no rhyme or reason to it given last night's numbers!

I didn't mind; one of them was the most gorgeous lady and it would have been worth it to do the show just for her. The other was a guy I've seen in the pub most nights, always slightly worse for wear.

Unfortunately,  he is obviously a bit of a put-off for others because I saw at least seven other people come into the room in the first five minutes, see he was there, and turn away.

He was a nice guy; lonely but intelligent but the comedian's nightmare — the helpful heckler. He offered clarifications some on jokes, asked for explanations on others, started talking about his relationship with Christianity ...  all reasonable stuff but when you take a comedian off their line, a lot of the jokes get lost because you simply can't backpedal in a lot of cases.

So I missed probably seven points in the show which led to a joke ... and was grateful that I did have extra material that I could throw in to fill the time.

Jane, however, laughed and laughed and laughed. I don't think I've had a better audience member any night. So many people of our age chuckle or purr with amusement. Jane laughed. She threw back her head and laughed. She was wonderful. And she was generous too. Odd how the money you collect in donations (so helpful in buying lunches and suppers!) often bears no resemblance to the numbers.

So an odd day but, in all, nothing bad about it. I am content. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Edinburgh Fringe Day 14 — Lunchtime Ferrets and the Largest Audience Yet.

I was slightly uneasy about today as it was going to be a long one. I've been so careful with harvesting energy that I've not gone into the city before lunch if I could help it. But today I wanted to see Cate Mackenzie, Paul Wogan and their 'Ferrets' and that meant the 11am bus.

It was worth it. Not only did I chuckle a lot and really enjoy the magical bits ... and find everyone truly funny ... but I was the audience member with absolutely the best snort (you had to be there) and I got given a free fig roll.

Cate, who's a love coach — and pretty darn sexy with it —her partner Paul, who I think is probably an even better comedian than compere, and a guy from the audience called Alex who turned out to be an astrologer, and I all ended up going for a cuppa and a flat out chatter-chatter. While Paul was getting the drinks we all interrupted each other with sun signs, moon signs, trines, oppositions, stories and comparisons (for example, Cate's Moon is conjunct my Venus so we could chat for hours). And I had one of those wonderful detached but amazing realisations: Alex was the guy I would have slept with in Edinburgh if I'd been single.

Oh he was very attractive for sure and vaguely in the right age-rage (just call me Cougar—or at my age Panther). But the astrology was what was speaking. His Scorpionic aspects would speak directly to my own, his Moon opposed mine by degree (which always sets up a frisson of some kind) and several other aspects indicated that, had it been another universe, there would have been a logical result.

But I no longer live by my blueprint (which is what astrology is). I have enough knowledge of my ego and the blueprint of my sexuality that I can detach and observe—and laugh. I can use my free will. But it was totally fascinating. And being who I am now, I could say to Alex, so happily, 'look, I'd love to see you again; maybe have coffee but actually I want to talk to Paul now.' I wanted to talk Taurus-to-Taurus with Paul about possibly working together. And Alex, who was also old enough and wise enough to be completely on the same wavelength, agreed, changed places with me and continued chatter-chattering with Cate.

Even 15 years ago, I'd have gone for the kill. I'd have used all my wiles to block Cate out (even though she's in a good relationship and wasn't the slightest bit interested). I'd have gone into conquest mode and played every card I'd got. Tonight, instead, when I've finished writing this, I shall have fun discussing the whole situation (astrology and all) with Lion. I really, really love my life.

This afternoon I had a meeting with Chris in the Media Office about what I could do to get some radio coverage of the show and where else I might contact who might be interested. Whole meeting took 15 minutes because we were both efficient and quite understood the issue I wanted to address.

And the show was a delight. Again it tried to run over so a bit more clipping had to be done. Again my audience outnumbered the Tickled Pigs (by 250%, if I'm permitted to brag—my largest yet). All this just being happy and letting go and letting God is ace stuff, for sure.

To finish a perfect day, the bus driver on the 44 stopped the bus for me where it was the most convenient place that I could get off to shorten my journey ... not at the bus stop where he should have stopped.

I said, you've been noticing where I walk,' and he just said, 'yes I have.'

I love Edinburgh. I love, love, love it.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 13 - Halfway Point

The city is packed with performers and happy crowds

I think Edinburgh is my most favourite city ever (excluding most of the ones in Italy, obviously). Yes, it's exceptionally vibrant (not to mention stuffed) right now with the Fringe and the Tattoo going on but it has huge personality. Not only is it beautiful with that incredible castle and the elegant stone buildings but the people are so very, very nice. They chat. They help. They smile.

As I was sitting at the bus stop with the beginnings of a hot flush, I got out my little fan to cool me. Five minutes later, the woman at the other end of the bench solicitously asked if I was feeling better.

I'm not sure that would have happened even in Devon. Certainly rare in London. And it's  an interesting point too because not only have the hot flushes decreased dramatically since I've been here but, yes, generally I am a lot better. I'm following my heart's desire and I feel wonderfully well. I've got a bit of a swollen neck which may be new homeopathy or may be pounding the streets and that's uncomfortable and not particularly beautiful, making me look rather lopsided when my hair's not perfect but I'm well.

And so far no one has thrown anything at me when I accidentally lapse into a Scottish accent when I do the sketch about Eve and the serpent. I do do the serpent in Scottish elsewhere for the simple reason that I'm rubbish at accents and our 'adopted' son Tim is Scottish so I get to hear that accent most often.

I can hardly believe that I'm halfway through the festival already.

The re-worked show is doing very well and today, for the first time, I had more audience than either the Tickled Pigs or George Firehorse who followed me. It would appear that my audiences are building slowly and steadily. Mind you, I do wish they'd all get here relatively on time! One couple said, 'could you start at the beginning again?' because they were obviously enjoying themselves but there are repeat references which kind of need you to have been there at the start.

They say that Twitter is the medium to use to promote your show but I'm a bit of an old fart with Twitter. I find it tedious whereas I find Facebook fascinating and it's Facebook which is bringing me part of my audience. Tonight it was Katie Murphy who said 'Oh, aren't you wee?' when she met me which was enchanting and sat in the front row smiling broadly and chuckling audibly. I do like an audible chuckle; most of my audience are around my own age and they aren't guffaw kinds of people. Still, they are amused and that's what matters.

What is interesting me is that I'm having to cut more and more material out of the set because it's taking longer than it used to do. I'm not quite sure why but it's probably because I'm more relaxed and chatty. Yes, there are some extra jokes but I didn't think they would take up quite so much time. So I am alternating 'wanky bollox' spiritual stories as I now can't fit in both of them and one of them has completely re-written itself anyway ensuring that I've had to change the order of part of the show because it now has a lovely potential follow-on bit.

And I'm adding a little at the beginning about being menopausal and not picking on people in the audience because 30 seconds after they've told me their names, I've forgotten them again. Heck, there are times I walk into that room and forget why I'm there...

It's been a long time since I've been this happy. That is both wonderful and cautionary. I must continue to have adventures and I have to accept that is part of my essential DNA. I'm having too much fun to waste time worrying about planning another one. That's God's business. I know and God knows that adventures (not crises) are required. They will come.

Edinburgh Fringe day 12. Keep Smiling!

No, that's not a fixed grin because things have gone suddenly downhill or anything like that. It's a fixed grin because I went to a comedy show at the free Fringe today that really wasn't funny. It was full daylight so you could see everyone in the audience's faces and the guy had done a lot of research and was trying very hard and our eyes kept meeting so I kind of felt obliged to have a bit of a smile.

There were three bits I found funny in the hour ... but that was about it. And the rest of the (packed) audience weren't that amused either. The applause at the end of the show was fairly minimal.

I'm not going to name him because ... oh bugger, should I? I don't know. It's perfectly fair to write a negative review and if it stops other people going and not being amused either... It seems a bit mean. But for goodness' sake woman! All's fair in love and comedy.

Okay, it was a show called All the Jokes in the Bible. I went along because I'm interested in that kind of stuff and I love hearing it made funny. Wouldn't be doing my own show, The Maggy Whitehouse Experience if I didn't now would I?

I will confess that I was noting any Biblical inaccuracies (five) but that's fair dos really for a vicar. But
I didn't go in order to criticise it. It just wasn't funny. And he didn't even mention donkeys apart from Samson's smiting his enemies with an ass's jaw. There could be a lot of good humour in the Bible from the donkey stories...

Anyway, going in to watch a show on my own was great fun in itself and now I'm more experienced in buses and how to get around the city I'll do it as much as I can. Today though I was starving ... having said that staying in The Dell is wonderful (and it is) today, Anne-Marie had a client in her healing room which is off the kitchen and you're not allowed in to the kitchen during those times.

And I'd left it too late to have lunch.

So, having walked from All the Jokes in the Bible to Ryrie's I was close to performance time but I had to stop off at M&S at the station to get their nut and seed energy food package before I could perform. Which of course left seeds in my teeth so I was picking those out frantically beforehand!

However, tonight was a lovely show. It flowed pretty well with a very good audience for a Monday - 15 people - including two Facebook friends, Gillian and Carole, who had come all the way from Glasgow. I just knew them ... having spoken so much on Facebook it wasn't like meeting people for the first time at all! Such a pleasure. What's more the audience were generous financially (and Gillian and Carole gave me tea bags and fruit too!). It's just great to get back to your digs and be able to hand over the night's rent in takings and have more than enough for food and fun tomorrow.

Happy day. Lots more of those to come. Just wish that guy had been funny.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 11 part two. Honing, honing, honing

Day 11 was a Sunday. I was planning to go into town and see a show but the remains of Hurricane

The view over our front gate.

Bertha meant torrential rain which was a tad offputting. If I'd been 100% I'd have gone but it's wise still to rest with the possible homeopathic flare-up in my neck.

Lion of course has had gales down on Dartmoor; that makes me slightly homesick—I've come to love the roaring winds we get at home. Here's a picture of home BTW. Not so different from the moors on the hills outside Edinburgh.

So instead, I've been working on improving the set. It was beginning to feel stale the last few nights.

That's one of the best things about having comedy notebooks and comedy files on the computer. Whenever I think I need to improve, I have piles of ideas to go back to. Not that new ideas don't come out of the blue either ... and not that I don't collaborate with others. Today for example, I had a wonderful Facebook chat with Deb Rowley in New Zealand who came up with the ideas that made up two terrific new and current jokes that I could drop into the act apropos of nothing at all.

And some lines from previous sets jumped out at me as being better for the kind of audiences that I've been getting than the newer ones I'd been using. So it was mix and match, re-order and start again.

So, what with oceans of lemon and ginger tea for my sore throat, I was feeling pretty chipper when I took the bus into town. The Tickled Pigs had a reasonably good turnout and were very happy. And when I started, I had one.

Incidentally, I don't use the phrase 'just one.' What's just about it? When I had supper at a local restaurant the other night, the waiter said, 'just one?' I replied 'entirely one,' which was probably somewhat too smart-alecky for him but it's a valid point. I spent many years travelling the world by myself and I was never 'just one.' It's a bit of a patronising saying isn't it?

Tonight, he was the sort of One who wanted to sit in the front row and engage and, to be honest, that is exactly what you need if you are trying out some new/old-new stuff,  you have a sore throat and aren't feeling 100%.

Even better, he chuckled. He chuckled all the way through ... and he asked questions when he didn't quite get it which will help me hone again. His name was Jez and he'd spent the day tidying up his flat before his wife came home so that there was no evidence that he'd had any parties whatsoever ... and he enjoyed it so much that he came along and joined my Maggy Whitehouse Spirited page on Facebook later that night.

Turns out he's a direct descendent of R. D. Blackmore, author of Lorna Doone and countless other novels.

Later in the show another seven people turned up (although, according to George who followed me another woman stood listening in the doorway for a while and then marched off exclaiming "outrageous!" Could be my first offended customer? Hooray! So there were eight or nine. A bit strange for a rural vicar to be so outnumbered on a Sunday!

It must have been fairly good because the couple who arrived 20 minutes before the end asked me if I could start over and do it again (no...not without seriously inconveniencing George) and a fine time was had by one and all.

I'm so happy that I'm sanguine about not having huge audiences. There's no point in fussing; the right people are coming; I'm having fabulous conversations with the folks who do come and it's still early days anyway. Most of all, I'm loving every second of it. And how does it get any better than that?

Edinburgh Fringe Day 11 part one. Amazing Americans.

Here in the Dell in Colinton is a lovely Victorian, Edinburgh stone house which currently contains six

women and one man. In the 12 days than I have been here, there hasn't been a single obvious scratchy bit; we get along. A lot of that is down to the energy of the house itself—the love between Anne-Marie and her partner; the plethora of dogs all eager for a scratch and a good word; the essence of love expressed in every gift-shop ornament that sits everywhere to greet you and remind you to 'sparkle, smile and shine.'

I'm generally a bit grumpy about piles of positive clutter everywhere but there's no doubt that the atmosphere is just lovely. I have piled a lot of the stuff in my room in the fireplace—it's a single room with a month's worth of luggage in it—but it's obviously still working.

Mind you I have lost three socks... But that is part of the cosmic dance of socks. They are probably having a riotous time on the Fringe and will be found hungover and senseless in a gutter in Grassmarket about three months from now. The lone sock is sulking in my suitcase. I may have to put it back in the washing machine to see if it can also find a loophole to a parallel universe and find its own joy.

But all my other socks are being hand washed by me and dried on the windowsill. There is a place for being a control freak and potentially running out of socks is definitely one of those.

As well as the lovely house, there's the Water of Leith tumbling by in its ravine just over the wall and hundreds of trees surrounding us and the constant 'kee ... kee ... kee' of the buzzards circling overhead. That does remind me of home. And you just have to walk a short space down the road to see the hills to the south of the city. It's just amazing that they rise right over such a magnificent place. You simply can't forget that it's Scotland.

The double bedroom next to mine is occupied by two young American women who have come over for a month to enjoy Edinburgh and the Fringe. Pretty impressive in itself but amazing when you find out that they are both from rural Washington State, had never been on an aeroplane before, never left their country before and only got passports a month ago.

Kaylin and Stephanie are sisters-in-law and as intrepid as they come (and they chat with me about Montana all the time—apparently everyone in Washington State has relatives in Montana). Every day they catch the bus into the city and see the sights and different shows. Not once have they appeared fazed by the whole, huge difference of this country to theirs. They are incredible.

Mind you, as I'm the only person who speaks 'BBC English' here, they often query words and pronunciations which is rather fun. I adore the American habit of going 'lil bit' for 'little bit' and they were fascinated that there actually was a different pronunciation.

So, I have a link back to Montana (which I love so much) as well as a lovely home here for the duration. And I've been to Washington State and love Seattle too so there's another synchronicity. And I just feel so amazing and so humbled (in a good way) at how easy it was to find this lovely place to stay as soon as I had committed to the Fringe. I am totally looked after, thank God.

Edinburgh Fringe Days 9 & 10. Rest, Rest, Rest.

It's true what they say about Edinburgh weather. Wait a minute and it changes. But there has been

Colinton

enough sun these last few days for pottering by the Water of Leith or sitting in Anne-Marie's steep but lovely garden and watching the peacock butterflies on her Buddleia. Everything is steep round here with the river running past in a ravine below.

Not a lot to report really these last two days. After the excitement of The Devil Without I had a quiet day catching up with emails and the like and only went into the city for the show. I leafleted people in the pub with a pitch for all of us (comedy and/or theatre from 12pm to 10pm every day) which felt very much like the right thing to do. Hopefully someone else does that too but if not, it doesn't matter.

At some point I will start leafleting the people who are commuting to the station which is right next door, but not yet. I truly believe that the bulk of the work is best done a/ internally by being at peace about it and keeping on honing the show (God knows what I am asking for, after all) and b/ word of mouth.

I do need to get funnier though. It's that natural point in the run where you get tired of your own material. That, no matter how hard you try to hide it, tends to show. So a bit more honing is required.

On Friday lunchtime, I took my latest homeopathy for the L-ed ... and I got a reaction almost at once with discomfort which swelled, literally into a very swollen and sore neck overnight and practically no voice in the morning. So instead of Saturday being a day when I went and had a one-to-one with the media guys at Fringe Central, it was a day in bed feeling rotten. Still, I had Uncle Eckhart and Auntie Esther Hicks and a meditation CD from Anne-Marie so the time passed pleasantly enough.

It was a bit of a stagger into town though ... and I wasn't expecting a lot of people given my energy level. The Tickled Pigs have been doing a roaring trade these last two nights and when I saw they had a packed room tonight it was a challenge not to be a bit envious. I am glad for them,—they were so worried earlier in the week—but their comedy is very general and mine is really rather eclectic so although I'd like those numbers I'm not sure I'll get them just yet. But I will get them...

Still, I had 21 people tonight which was the largest audience so far ... and some good laughter even if I did cut it short by 10 minutes to save my voice. The nicest thing was that one group of four had come from word-of-mouth from someone who came earlier in the week and three of them stayed behind afterwards to ask me questions about my work and wondering if they could link up on Facebook.

But the best of all was when I overheard them going down the stairs afterwards and one of them said, 'I could come back and listen to all that again every night.'

The thing is, I'm funny - mostly. But I'm serious too. I'm telling them truths that are in the Bible and misconceptions and clearing up a few things. So it's not wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am comedy at all. And it's so lovely when someone appreciates the whole package.