I am back in Edinburgh and into the final furlong of the Fringe.
When I woke up at 5.30am this morning, and after my hectic weekend, I didn’t think I would be feeling this buoyant some 14 hours later, but that’s what a good gig can do for the system. The three-day break has reinvigorated me.
My train didn’t arrive back in until about 4.20pm and after I dropped off my bags back at the flat it wasn’t until after 5pm when I started flyering, so the chances of getting an audience were not in our favour.
We managed to get 12 people in, lower than our average, but they were a very receptive crowd. The gig gave me another comedy first – having an eight-year-old boy in the audience. We warned his dad before the show about what to expect, but he insisted on bringing him in. I don’t know if he still stands by this decision but the boy looked like he was enjoying it.
I also did my longest set ever – 28 minutes, which seemed to fly by. Paul didn’t enjoy his set as much, he is looking tired. But we made £22 out of 12 people, not bad going at all.
Once again we were without a microphone after it stopped working just before we were on. Worryingly there is also a big leak starting to form in the ceiling where our show is, if it collapses when I’m stage at least I can say I brought the house down. I thank you.
There are now only six shows left for A Mixed Bag. I am determined to go out on a high and force reviewer James Hampson’s to eat his poorly written words; I’m willing to get them deep-fried for him especially.
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