Absolute vocal wreckage has forced me indoors this evening to ponder the monsoon we're currently living in up in Edinburgh. It's quite difficult to describe exactly how much rain there is here... as soon as you step out of the house you can shampoo your hair and wring out your underwear right there in the street. It's not so much that your hair will frizz with the rain, it's that you become so sodden you worry the weight of the water will pull the hair straight out of your head. I'm starting to think that baldness might even be an advantage as it would stop the ends of your soaking hair giving you breast region damp patches where it hangs over your shoulder. These damp patches are often very difficult to explain.
I hate staying in during the Fringe... I find it very, very difficult to not feel like I'm missing out on the best party in the world because I've decided to stay inside instead. However, tonight I have Honey, Lemon and a projector with which to seriously enjoy some David Attenbrough. Oh yeah! Kicking back with a Lemsip... watch out Eminem I'm hot on your coat tails. That would be a much more convincing phrase there if I hadn't used the phrase coat tails and referenced a rapper who hasn't done anything remarkable for... well, a long time.
The trouble is I think I'm finally edging closer to a point where I might slightly know my limitations and I am gearing up for an enormous weekend... my sparring partner from last year's Edinburgh jaunt is coming to town for two nights and I have to bring to my A Game. It's not that I have to bring my A Game, it's that I have to send my A Game away to be polished and then get it back, keep it in bubble wrap and brand new socks under the bed and then keep it out of strong sunlight all weekend. I have to recharge the batteries in my A Game every time I blink. My A Game ought to be renamed my iGame it's that fucking good... I've got serious prep to do. I'm not scared... I know I can handle it. Hell, I can beat this weekend hands down as long as my tongue's sharp enough and I never had a hand without a pint in it. How badly wrong could it go?
I'm always a fan of people who can handle their banter and the Fringe is a great place to find a collection of them ready to play. Perhaps that's what's so difficult about staying in; you're sure you're missing out on someone who would have had a good 10 minute exchange in them. Perhaps we should have all got together before the Fringe and prepared which nights we were all in and out. That way no one would miss out. Perhaps I'll begin now; here is my call people, this weekend I shall be bringing the noise; feel free to clap along.