Tuesday, August 2, 2011

North of The Border

Now THAT was a long drive... someone ought to give J.R.R. Tolkien a ring and tell him that if he wants to write about an epic journey just narrate the arrival of any comedian with spirit on their journey to the Fringe. We left at 6:38am and I've just sat down on the sofa to try and keep myself awake until a decent hour so I don't end up getting myself some kind of jetlag in wimpy comedian form.

The trip up to Scotland is beautiful and a lot of fun... I rather enjoyed marking the change of County at each point. It was like playing one of the simpler versions of Mario Kart and being very disappointed with the level upgrades.

Service stations are quite disconcerting for the weary traveller on a long trip - you feel like you've been driving for hours but every time you stop and look around you, you're at exactly the same Costa Coffee. It's occurred to me that English Service Stations also give a very false impression of how seriously English people take methods of relieving themselves. I've never before experienced so many different infra red flushes and taps, so many Twister force hand dryers, so many competitions to see how frequently the toilets are checked.

These toilets are checked every 60 minutes - if these toilets are not in the condition you expect them to be in please contact management.

These toilets are checked every 30 minutes - if these toilets are not in the condition you expect them to be in please contact management.

These toilets are checked constantly. If there isn't a small woman in ugly shoes squatting behind the door of your cubicle please contact the manager so we can monitor her ankle tag and find the snivelling bitch and give her back her J Cloth.

Is there really any need for these toilets to be checked quite so regularly? The rest of the service station is quite frankly a dumping ground for common children and baked bean infested trays, why do the toilets need to have a Duchess of Cambridge level of hygiene?

But anywho, arrived in Edinburgh courtesy of a few rounds of "Donald, Where's Your Troosers?" and "On Top of Spaghetti" and now the excitement is fizzing away in my tummy like a drunk rattle snake. How brilliant.   It's hard to describe Edinburgh if you've never been here but it's like someone has created a city that's perfect to write about. You imagine it would always look wet, even if you upped it to Saudi Arabia the walls of the buildings would some how cling to their darkened bricks and mossy outcrops. Arthur's seat looms over one end of the city; proudly displaying people who already have the stamina and thighs to have conquered it. The castle sits in the middle and the winding streets around it with small shops and exciting cafes just don't disappoint... this city was built to make you feel something. Well done Scotland - I'm going to feel you for a month. Now please, be gentle when you're giving something back...

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