A Fag Goes Wild in Edinburgh

A Fag Goes Wild In Edinburgh

Saturday 5th August

For the uninitiated, Fringe festival is the thespian equivalent to Fashion week. Anyone who wants to pretend to be someone simply  has to be seen in the Scottish capital. I lost my Fringe virginity two years ago and I’ve been hooked ever since.

Back then I was waving a jazz hand as Liza Minnelli to a crowd of three, this year I have the privilege of reviewing the shows. So whilst I might not be à la drag this time around that doesn’t mean I can’t get my usual Fagulous self in on the action.

So for those who can’t be up here with the Scots, thespians, comedians and vagabonds let me be your go to gay for all the gossip.

After experiencing hell on earth last time I travelled to Edinburgh by taking a 9 hour Megabus, I decided to treat myself this time to a slightly quicker 5 hour train service from Kings Cross to Waverly station. Disappointment all round when Linda the train driver informed us that the trolley service had been cancelled for the day. I was impressed we arrived on time, well done Linda you did us all proud in the end.

Edinburgh is a beautiful City of gothic buildings and deep fried fast food, a perfect combination. Scots that love us theatre luvvies bombarding them once a year embrace us with open arms, the ones that don’t are forced to flee from us yuppies gleefully mincing from venue to venue.

As you walk down the Royal Mile be prepared for a flurry of eager eyed students to chuck as many promo flyers at you as they can. Fringe isn’t complete unless you’re pockets are bulging with half torn leaflets for shows you have no intention of seeing.

That’s the beauty of Fringe, everyone’s here for the same reason and that is to be noticed. Some will, but lots more won’t and there’s no doubt about it everyone will leave empty pocketed gasping with breath from the whirl wind flurry that Fringe causes.

Remember, don’t forget to bring your pac-a-mac, I got caught short at the bus stop outside my Air BnB waiting for the 104 to go back into the city. That’s another point, the buses only take coins. For a London City slicker like me not swiping my iPhone on an oyster card reader feels prehistoric, let alone having to carry exact change.

I’ve already treated myself to a tear jerker show (Dust by Milly Thomas at the Underbelly, would highly recommend) to melt my icy heart. Tomorrow will be my first full day and I’m already planning a full Scottish breakfast of early morning comedy in some of the free Fringe venues.

My wallet is now nicely sorted with change for the bus home- I’m off to a glam press party tonight so must dash and put on a light base.

Much love,
Fagulous.

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