Day Three: Take a look at me- a penguin you will see.
I have a confession to make.
I got the evening meals mixed up.
This will become obvious later.
This Sunday morning did not start with the same enthusiasm as the Saturday but it was yet again a beautiful morning. We had another patented Hobbling breakfast of pancakes (with sugar and lemon), the mashed potato from the bangers and mash meal (told you I got the meals mixed up...), bacon and the remaining strawberries. We don’t like to start the day without some ballast.
There was some plan to drive to the nearest station and take the train into Edinburgh but general concern about when exactly the trains were running, given the fact it was a Sunday, made us fall back on our friendly neighbourhood chauffeur: skit. And so we got back into the ripe skitmobile and headed off to Edinburgh.
This time we avoided the crippling parking fee by parking rather far from the city centre. As we (well, skit) found a space and demonstrated excellent parallel parking skillz, Craig phoned from the bus station in Edinburgh. We confirmed the meeting place (a coffee shop in the centre of some square, possibly St Andrew) which had been chosen by the excellently organised Mike. Skit, biped and I then hopped, skipped and jumped (very rarely just an expression with us) to a bus stop where we caught a bus within minutes of us getting there.
We got off the bus near the overpriced car park and walked to the square of meetings. Sure enough, there was a coffee shop there though not a Costa as had been promised to us. But still, there was Craig and Witty Lela and Friend, looking through the window like puppies begging to be rescued. I can only think that Friend was brought for sacrificial purposes, by the way.
We went into the coffee establishment of forgotten chain affiliation and greeted our new meet friends. After seeing so many pictures of Craig from boy to man (well, man-boy) and expecting a red-headed beauty for Lela, it wasn’t a jarring moment to meet them.
We quickly realised that Mike and Madeleine were already there at the coffee shop but sitting outside and pretending they weren’t with the other three so we went out there to join them in the surprising Scottish sunshine. We played havoc with the table arrangements to get us all seated and surrounding a focal point (or two). Taking advantage of the warmth of the day, I got an iced latte, my last of the year (possibly my first too to be honest as I can’t remember having one since being out in California).
We chatted for a while about nothing in particular (probably at some point the oddity of the sore upper-arms) and then got ourselves into gear and walked on. Skit and I chatted to Lela, mainly about Craig I think. We ended up back in the area near the castle with the gaudy fountain (I think this is Princes Street Gardens, looking at a map). We found some entertainment in the form of a couple of Australians showing off their unicycling talents. Personally, my focus was less on them as it was on my bladder which was about to explode with iced latte: not nice for me and not nice for anyone within the splash zone. I found some public toilets but couldn’t work out how to get in or indeed which of the two doors I was meant to enter from. Fortunately I was saved by sidling up to skit and telepathically triggering her toilet need so I could then follow her to more convenient convenience. She led me to a museum cunningly hiding beneath our feet (we were on a terrace) and we relieved ourselves there. I mean, in the museum toilets.
We returned to the group who probably had not missed us at all. The unicyclists had finished their act and we moved on, past stalls selling ethnic fashions as you tend to get in festivals. We walked up some steps, approaching the castle on a different route than we did on the Saturday. At the top of the climb, we paused to let people catch up, and a man in a white lab coat leafleting some act or event or something found his eyes drawn to skit’s assets or at least her t-shirt. That day skit was wearing a t-shirt from xkcd musing that if the t-shirt was witty enough, someone might love her. Indeed, the man asked her where it was from as he kind of recognised it creating skit’s first real life xkcd moment. Alas, there was no love offered.
Skit spurned, we continued walking through the city. It became hard to keep together when we got to the chaos of Royal Mile. We got very distracted by all the performers and leafleteers as well as the random crafts market where I bought a badge for skit for no good reason. The biggest distracted for me though was Ben Moor.
I saw him in his grey hoodie forlorning holding out leaflets. I couldn’t help it; I had to go up to him and embarrass myself. I told him that I saw his show the day before and then went on to speak in tongues with the words destiny and fate possibly making an appearance. I must have come off as a total idiot but he was very sweet and asked me whether I had got a badge, which I had. Finally realising that he was looking for an escape route, I wished him all the best for his final performance (hoping that it was indeed his final performance that day because otherwise it may have sounded like a threat) and ran off. I joked to biped that my stalking plan was easier than I imagined.
We continued our walk all the way to the Pleasance. Once there we were accosted by more leafleteers, one of whom delivered a little spiel with the leaflet to encourage us to see the play "Pie" or "Meat Pie" or something- the name was forgettable (to me). We all ended up sipping drinks under a marquee in a quiet corner of the Pleasance courtyard debating our next move. What show should we see?
As we sat, torn between the options, a man walked into the marquee. Dressed in a grey hoodie. It was Ben Moor. Again. He saw Mike and came over to say hi, Mike, I assume, being a bit of a local legend. He then saw me and you could see the fear in his eyes (possibly- or maybe it was just recognition, I confuse the two). I started to wonder if instead of me stalking him, he was stalking me. But then again, I was at his place of work so perhaps it was still me stalking him after all.
Ben Moor sat in a little corner by himself as I tried to ignore the presence of his genius and focus on the issue of what play we were going to see. Encouraged by the funny spiel and jokes written on the leaflet, we opted for Meat Pie (or whatever it was called) and I got the tickets. It wasn’t on for a while so we decided to grab some lunch first. Mike knew an “Indian tapas” place nearby and so there we went.
It was a great little restaurant. We each ordered a dish or two by scribbling our request on a bit of paper which eventually ended up with Mike so he now has a sample of everyone’s handwriting. I had a pot of chai which was absolutely delicious as well as being Hobbling-appropriate. The small Indian dishes came quickly and soon the table was covered with a banquet. I doubted we would ever get through it yet somehow we did and more food was ordered. The benefit of having small dishes, I found, was that hot food was easier to enjoy when you only had a couple of bites and then you could move onto the mild stuff to calm your palate. Plus, I am generally fond of tapas because it means I never grow bored of eating which I usually do with proper servings.
We devastated the area and left. We separated for a while at the Pleasance and reconvened for the show. We went into the theatre, again little more than a back room someone had thrown some seating into, and got a row of seats near the front.
The play was not a hit. The clever leafleteer with the witty sales pitch was not a star of the play and the hilarious jokes on the leaflet were the only ones that raised a laugh. The conceit was that the two stars would play all the roles in the play. They would switch from character to character by doing a little twirl and taking a pose, putting on an accent and doing small alterations to costume. The two performers were actually quite good at this, creating a range of insane caricatures all distinct from each other and capable of being followed in a complex fight scene. That is worthy of praise. Unfortunately, the writing was not great and there were nearly no laughs as we watched a crime caper take place.
At one point quite late in the play they decided to include some audience participation for no apparent reason. Suddenly skit found herself being asked what she had for dinner the night before. “Sausages” she replied with no acknowledgement that the meal was a lot more complex and delicious than that. The actresses got it out of her though: the mashed potato and the runner beans and the gravy. (Not literally.) There was also another audience member that was asked questions and he pretended to be Tony Blair which seemed to throw the actresses for a moment as if they didn’t realise that other people could be funnier than them.
So, it wasn’t a great play but I did come away at least thinking positively of their performance if not the writing. It was such a shame that the day before had had two top-notch shows. I honestly was beginning to think that all the festival had was brilliant.
We then walked to Arthur’s Seat, an extinct volcano looking out over the city. On the way, skit and I argued about the use of audience participation which we almost never do in Real Life (argue that is, not that particular argument) and it felt quite odd but fortunately came to an end by the base of the Seat.
Madeleine and biped decided not to climb Arthur’s Seat so we arranged with them to meet at the next theatre (this time opting to see a performance Mike and Madeleine had already been to once and so were certain was good). The path leading up split and Mike went one way and Craig led the rest of us on the other route. Craig bound up the steps like a mountain goat as we struggled behind him, pausing half way out of sheer exhaustion. The views of the city were already pretty marvellous and we hadn’t been climbing for very long. Looking at the route to come, I saw an alternate path that was essentially a sheer drop in one place. Some people were attempting to go down it. My heart was in my throat as I could see that they were not prepared for proper climbing. I wanted to shout at them but they were too far away. Fortunately, they thought better of their path choice in the end but it was scary while I thought they were going to do it.
Our path actually had a rather steep bit too- steep enough that we had to use our hands to pull us up. It wasn’t more than a couple of metres though and there was plenty of grass to grab onto making it more fun than risky.
Eventually, we made it to the top just behind a patient and decidedly unwearied Craig. Mike was already there waiting for us.
The top was windy and barren of plant life but teeming with people who, on finding themselves at the top of Arthur’s Seat, seemed to be unsure of what to do next. Skit and Mike spent some time looking at an engraving which gave the cardinal points and described the view. Skit squinted into the distance trying to see our castle and finally persuaded herself that she had it. Craig stood on the rocks looking both magnificent as if posing for an action calendar and ridiculous and he attempted to protect his ears from the gusting wind.
Eventually we realised that the main thing to do when you are at the top of Arthur’s Seat is to go down. We traipsed down a gentle route that took us through those paths that masquerade as streams (or vice versa) that Scotland seems to like so much. It was a longer route but done in quicker time since no one required a break to refrain from dying.
We made it back to the city and to the next theatre, just down the road from the Pleasance. Yes, a different venue. We couldn’t get seats together this time so skit, biped and I found ourselves in a non-tiered row and I spent most of the performance moving my head from left to right and back again in an effort to see what was going on.
Indeed, it didn’t help too much and I soon just gave up trying to watch the performance and instead let my thoughts wander to more pleasant places. In other words, I didn’t really enjoy it and I couldn’t even feel gracious enough to give them the same leeway as I gave the Meat Pie (or whatever) people because it was just too depressing.
Let me start properly. The set was well lit with icy colours and the air was touched with chalk dust that gave the room atmosphere. The music was soft and vaguely improvisational. The two performers were silent throughout as they mimed their story. The entire ambience was one of ice and silence, loneliness and depression, hopelessness and fear. Or so it felt to me. I was distinctly uncomfortable and wanted to leave but was trapped in by a row of people.
The story was open to interpretation as the mimes suggested something about a journey in the Antarctic. There were hints of memories or hallucinations of leaving home with great fanfare and ideas of heroism. And then suggestions of madness and confusion as the mimes became confused between the explorers and the wildlife they met. I could see out of the corner of my eye the delighted expression on skit’s and biped’s faces as they saw the mimes act as penguins or fish or seals or birds. But my mood was going from disturbed to bored as the animal acts went on for ages. I didn’t really know what to do with my thoughts and so just started an inner monologue filled with bile for this show.
It fortunately came to an end after an hour and I was free. Free but still trapped by not wanting to express my opinions in front of either the people that recommended it or the people that seemed to have enjoyed it. Some other voices in our group were muted but some seemed to be in awe of the show. Ah well.
On the walk back across the city, Madeleine made a new friend out of a friendly drunk. I stood about a metre away as she tried to be polite and yet insistent with him and I escaped attention completely. I think I may have turned invisible at some point. Since we were near their house, we said our farewells to Mike and Madeleine and went on two Hobblings short.
The Aberdeen three wanted to go straight to the bus station as indeed it was very late and they had to catch the correct bus. It was a shame that it ended up so rushed especially since I felt incredibly bad that they got on the bus with no dinner. There wasn’t anything open at the bus station for a snack and they didn’t dare go far on their quest for food for the aforementioned worry about missing the bus and so we abandoned them, hungry. I expect Craig and Lela ate their sacrificial buddy. Or something.
I myself was very hungry and also tired and grumpy not to mention depressed and annoyed at those mimes. We three that remained decided to go to a restaurant rather than go to Asda and get something to cook so we found ourselves at Cafe Rouge which is a place I kind of hold an irrational hatred of for no good reason except their food always bores me (and skit criticises me for ordering French dishes with an English accent). What followed was therefore a not fantastic meal. I don’t know whether skit and biped were anything but tired as none of us vocalised our reason for silence, after all that would defeat the point, but the meal was conducted without our usual chatter.
I had had a drink with ice in it and it was served with a straw. As is my way, I started playing. Skit had been toying with the candle, as was her way, but soon joined me in the ice game. The ice cubes had a hole through the centre (I am not sure why but they nearly always do in restaurants) and so I poked the straw through and then placed the straw horizontally on the top on the glass letting the cube hang. The “game” was nothing more than to watch the ice melt and the cube eventually drop from the straw into the glass. It sounds dull (because it is) but was pretty much all my tiny brain could cope with at that point.
We three watched the ice melt. And drop. And then tried again with a couple more ice cubes. Skit got her camera out and took photos. Our waitress backed away with a worried look on her face.
Eventually we finished the food, paid the bill and left. The bus was a little harder to catch this time and we were quite cold waiting for it. It came though and we rode with it and it turned... and took a route not near where the skitmobile was parked. There was little for it but to get out and walk which we did. Cold. Tired. Quiet. And then skit drove back to the castle and we slipped into bed and sleep took us away.
posted by keppet @ 7:19 PM
