It took me about four further hours to get home. It's a long drive. And yet being in a car means that every mile travelled is earned and every mile counted down is appreciated. I felt excited about coming home. It was good to know that I would be through my front door hours before the Fringe was over.
In fact I got several texts this evening from people in Edinburgh asking me if I was doing my show, or if I wanted to come to their show. "It will be difficult," I told them.
I was delighted not to be in Edinburgh though. Even if being in Shepherd's Bush was slightly surreal after a month of living the same day over and over again elsewhere.
I had pizza and beer and watched two DVDs.
These were:
Jumper - pretty much rubbish, why is Billy Elliot talking in that strange accent? It could have been a much better film if it hadn't just mainly been people punching each other in a variety of quickly changing locations. And why didn't he just tell his girlfriend the truth the dick?
Son of Rambow: nearly good, but a little too quirky for me and a bit disjointed. But a million miles better than "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by the same director.
It was cool though to not have to do my show and I was tired and a little drunk.
As usual the Fringe seemed like it had ended about a thousand years ago. But it was still going on and somewhere in the city the if.comedy people were blowing £4000 on an unwanted party. Though no-one told me where it was, even if I had been able to go. I wish they have given a thousand pounds each to four people who had lost several thousand pounds putting on something they had loved.
I suspect I will be back next year. Usually at this point I can think of nothing worse than going back, but I have come out of this one relatively unscathed, even if it is the first time I have actually physically damaged myself.
Let's move on. It's done.
