Still not sleeping too well and my annoyance levels were a bit high this morning. I tried to pay in the coins from the SCOPE collection at the bank, but the machine was again out of order. When I went up to the counter to request some coin bags the lady said, "You know that you can just pay your coins into the machine over there?"
I was a bit cross. I did know that. And I had tried to do so on two occasions and had to traipse across Edinburgh with a heavy ruck sack with probably £400 of coins in it. So I was all sarcastic and unpleasant even though the woman had only been trying to help and said, "Yes I do know that and I would love to do that. But the machine doesn't work, so I can't." I showed her with her helpfulness.
I took the bag of coins to the gym with me. I have been to this Edinburgh gym many times before and I have always liked the fact that they have a ready supply of towels and there has never been an issue with me having one before. Indeed yesterday I had been given a towel with no question, but today the man looked me up on his computer and when I asked for a towel he said, "It will cost a pound."
"What?" I replied incredulously, "Why? I've never been charged before."
"Sorry, it's just flagged up on the computer that people from your home gym have to pay for towels."
Which seemed a bit off. My home gym doesn't provide towels, but for this gym then to institute a policy of towel based apartheid, where some have to pay and some don't, seemed a bit rich. Especially given that hadn't come up yesterday. And additionally I was miffed because when I had used one of the other branches of this gym
and had washed my hair in conditioner that smelled like human faeces I didn't make a fuss or threaten to sue them for emotional trauma or even ask for any compensation - and I think I could easily have expected some. I didn't even name the company in the blog, which I think was nice of me. And I won't do it now, but Ian Virgin has let me down - not being satisfied with the £70 a month I give him to usually not use his gym and wanting more money for a towel. Bad show, Ian Virgin. I wondered maybe if it was only ME who gets flagged up me on their computer. They had enjoyed the stunt with the sham-poo and now they wanted to see how I'd react to being singled out to pay for my towel. Bastards.
Once in the gym I found an unused towel in my locker anyway, which made it doubly annoying that Ian Virgin was somewhere rolling around in a pile of a single one pound coin that he'd got off of me, but I used that one to wipe my equipment, just in case it was subtly coated in more effluent.
As I ran on the running machine I contemplated how weird it must be for some of the more famous acts at the Fringe, because they might be exercising and then look up to see themselves on TV. But then when I was on the exercise bike I looked up at the screen to see a report on the Fringe on the news and realised that it was probably the one that would have me on it. I quickly plugged my headphones in to listen, just as an unsettling image of someone vaguely familiar come on to screen. It was me aged 21 in 1988 on the Edinburgh Nights show being harangued by Keith Allen. Then in an unfair cross fade 23 years passed in a moment and there I was again, grey haired with my weather-beaten wrinkled old gonk face. It was like that bit in Indiana Jones where the Nazi drinks from the wrong Holy Grail.
You can see for yourself here.
I got to the Stand a little bit late, largely due to the lackadaisical attitude at the staff at the Virgin gym cafe (whoops gave away the name of the gym) who took ages to make me a coffee and a bagel. After I had paid a pound for a towel (which incidentally had a dubious orangy mark on it. Had I had more time I would have complained. But it gave me much to talk about
in the 2nd Edinburgh Fringe podcast. The format seems to be finding its feet, though I have enjoyed the comments of the people on iTunes dismissing it because of an (in places) shaky first episode, saying it's not as good as other podcasts I've done. It's the first one dudes. Go back and listen to the first Collings and Herrin one. It's not very good. It takes time to build up a rapport and as I am with different comics every day some will work better than others. But it's a seat of the pants experience. There's no script and we have little idea where we're going. I think it's a lot of fun and Matthew Crosby and Lou Sanders were both excellent value today. Go and see their shows. And come and see the podcasts too. Numbers need to pick up and the better the atmosphere in the room the better the show will seem to idiots on iTunes!
What is Love, Anyway? fortunately was sold out tonight and though it was a tougher Friday night crowd, I think I won most of them round. The show came in at exactly an hour, though I still felt like I had forgotten something important, but couldn't work out what it was. In the middle of the night I woke up and realised I'd left out the "stalker" section for the last couple of nights. In a way the show didn't miss it being there, but it's a funny bit, so will try to reintroduce it, even if it means I have to lose stuff elsewhere.
Bristo Square was thronging with people and I wanted to go home rather than be in the midst of the madness, but I got invited to a very quiet performers' bar behind the Udderbelly, which was an oasis of calm (although having not been given any passes yet I had had to get in by pointing at myself on a poster to prove who I was - I am not yet the king of Edinburgh, but give it time). I missed out on being sociable last year and it was a lot of fun to chat with some of my fellow comics. I still headed home for an earlyish night, bumping into the lovely Steve Hall and Alun Cochrane on the way and stopping for more chatter. I love the Fringe.
