I am sure I have mentioned this in previous years, but the more Fringes I do, the more disconcerting the tricks with memory become. Everywhere is familiar and most places have a specific memory attached to them, and all those memories seem recent, like they could have happened last week. But then I realise with a start that in fact that was something from a decade ago. Sometimes two decades. Sometimes I know it's an ancient memory - like every time I walk past the old St Mary's Hall where we did some of our first shows (now an office block) I think of technical manager Rupert Blakeley burning all the Oxford Revue costumes at the end of the run. He did this vindictavely I assume, but I don't recall what we'd done to piss him off. Unfortunately we still had a week's run in London to do so it was an inconvenient piece of vandalism. That memory feels ancient (but then it did happen in 1988) but other's seem more current, until I realise with a jolt occurred in 2002 (or whenever).
And yet whilst some of these things seem sharp and clear, other details disappear entirely. I pass the flat that we stayed in in 2007 and 2008 most days - where I spent some of my happiest times at the Fringe with the brilliant flat mates of Sarah Kendall, Henry Naylor, Lucy Porter and Justin Edwards (who all ended up marrying each other in some combination or other - I forget who is with who and think they may have swapped at some point). But I can't remember which flat we lived in. Which door was it behind? I was there every day for a month and yet that detail eludes me (It was opposite the comedially named Scottish solicitors McSporrans, but even with the knowledge I can't pinpoint the number).
But in many ways coming to Edinburgh feels like being a sort of modern day Gary Sparrow and the Fringe is the past that he mysteriously visits, with some kind of Eisteinly relativity mixed in. So though normal life progresses, when we pass through the portal to this strange land of Scotch, nothing has moved on and last year was last week and ten years ago, just a couple of months back (I am aware that in Goodnight Sweetheart the time in the two eras moves at the same pace - that is why I added the relativity aspect). It is a real mind-fuck. Perhaps time breaks down and things happen in a random order here. Perhaps Blakely hasn't yet burned our costumes. Maybe I can stop him.
No podcast today, but I managed a good work out at the gym (bumping into Sean Hughes and chatting as we cycled nowhere on the exercise bikes) and did a lot of walking (to the Pleasance and back twice). If I can keep this up my new suit will be hanging off me by the end of the run (though I will be satisfied if the trousers don't feel quite as tight as they do at the moment). There were over 150 people in the audience, so it's moving in the right direction, but hopefully it will pick up once things get into full swing. The first 40 minutes went really well, but there was a weird dip at the end and my two big set-piece routines didn't go as well as on the first night. Someone walked out at the end of the "Railways and the Holocaust" bit (I don't think it could be clearer that I am not laughing at the Holocaust in this, quite the opposite, I am pointing out what people get away with in the name of being "serious" - maybe they were just going to the toilet) and then I got an indistinct heckle at the start of the Hamlet bit. I think both these things threw me off a little at the point that I am least confident about. Which was a shame as it had been steaming along until there. It was still OK, I think, but I was annoyed that I didn't perform these tricky routines as well as I am capable of doing them. And I subsequently didn't nail the still slightly ad-libbed final argument as well as I had done on night one. But I am attempting some tricky routines that depend on a sharp and precise performance and there is the danger (especially at this early stage) that I will fall on the ice and have to pick myself up. As much as I tried not to think about reviewers (and I don't know if there were any in), it annoyed me to contemplate the fact that the best bits on the show might be written up as being weak due to a slight dip in confidence. But maybe this is only something that I was going to really notice. I got very positive comments from the people I saw afterwards. And I am glad that I am attempting a difficult move, even if there's the danger that the judges will mark me down if I don't quite complete the triple salco (is that a thing?).
I then headed over to the Stand to do three minutes at the first night party at the venue. It was so terrific to be amongst other comedians and the camaraderie was genuine and heart-warming. This really is a brilliant venue and the acts who play here are so much more relaxed as they are not taking on the financial burdens that others face. I had a couple of beers, did my jokes and then headed home for an earlyish night as I was pretty wiped out from the rushing around and have to get up at 7.30am.
But I am feeling happy and positive and not dented by the slight dip in tonight's show or the fact that I had lots of empty seats. Which augurs well for me having a joyous rather than a miserable time this year. I hope I can keep it all up.
The podcast with Jenny Eclair is now up on the British Comedy Guide and iTunes. David Baddiel is tomorrow's guest and Norman Lovett on Saturday.
