I felt a lot better today and the Fringe seemed a much brighter place. I was not totally recovered, but I'd slept OK and most of my fluey symptoms had gone away. I was meant to be doing two extra gigs and a radio show on top of my two shows today, but took the sensible precaution of backing out of the two night-time gigs so that I could have another early night.
I know I must have sounded quite low over the last few days, and I suppose I have been, but if you're a regular reader you will know that this is usual Edinburgh fare (though the last three or four years have been less taxing, mainly because I've been selling tickets I guess). If you read my book you'll know that in 2007 I was having similar thoughts about never doing the Fringe again, when my guardian angel Daniel Kitson appeared from out of the mist. When I said that 20 years of Edinburgh might be enough, he replied, "Yeah, but 30 would be better" and with those six words pretty much convinced me to carry on -
I blogged about it here.
Kitson has not appeared to reassure me this year and so I'll have to convince myself, but my point is that the Fringe is full of self-indulgent doubt and depression. And being ill on top of that does not help things.
But I made a better and brighter contribution to the podcast today and Michael Legge was very funny, even when I tried to goad him about veganism and the Irish question. I seem to be back into my stride with Talking Cock too and now there are only five shows left so it doesn't feel like quite such a mountain to climb. The two for one offer seems to be helping draw people in, so will be extended to Wednesday, though that might be the last opportunity so take advantage of it if you can.
But in non-Fringe news I was a bit saddened to see that the pub in Ladbroke Grove which was used for the external shots of the Landlord's gaff in Time Gentleman Please has been knocked down. It was originally called the Admiral Blake, but was then renamed the Cowshed (a change that we worked into the script for the second series of the show - the Guv had wanted it to be called "The Cow's Head" but there was a mistake in the sign) and it was a bit of a dive. Funnily enough the locations team had searched all over London for a suitably rundown boozer, but this one was about 100 yards away from the Avalon offices where we worked on the programme. We couldn't find a more appropriate looking pub anywhere in the city. Al posted a
photo of the space where the pub once was (taken by @tomburke999) on Twitter. Oddly enough Mr Jackson from the brewery (Ms Jackson's dad) had threatened to smash down the pub, and if I remember correctly have every brick crushed to brick dust and then put into a cannon and fired into the heart of the sun. "Wouldn't that be prohibitively expensive?" I seem to remember someone asking him, but he didn't care, he was rich and wanted revenge, for some reason. Well looks like he's now got at least part of his wish.
Even though the show was obviously shot in a studio set and we scarcely even filmed anything at the real pub (I remember having to do an external shot where I, as the postie, was seen walking through the door and we spent a day doing some establishing shots) it did feel like a part of me had been ripped out by the destruction of this horrible but special place. It's like all the characters have died too. But then I suppose they have anyway. RIP Terry. All the hangovers that you've been staving off by getting perpetually drunk will be just about to kick in now you're dead.
