Edinburgh jottings

With Festival nights now a distant memory, Penny Pepper reflects back on a week spent at Europe’s biggest cultural event

The sun is out as we cruise past another caravan on the winding stretches of the A1. I’ve clocked up seven hours on the road, and one stop at services for a quick loo and coffee break. My PA looks perky enough and we chug on.

The sun stays with us as, nine hours on, we pull up on the south side of the Royal Mile, a mere sporran’s throw away from all the intense madness that is the Edinburgh Fringe. But I’m pleased to note no cobbles, and a beautiful, peaceful Victorian flat with spacious rooms. The low golden sun warming us through the tall windows is a welcoming sight.

Another day and my first outing to Fringe. The jagged streets are packed with swarms of eager tourists and armies of flyer teams. Many young people, not many crips. I spot one white cane user, clinging to his companion’s arm, one wheelie juddering down a cobbled nightmare. I’m aiming towards Udderbelly – a large, inflated purple cow rests upside down, udders skywards. Always makes me smile. I’m here to find ‘The Wee Coo’, venue to see Laurence Clark’s new show, Health Hazard!

There’s quite a gathering as we edge into the intimate space. On the small stage, Laurence’s trusty signature projector sits in anticipation. For just under an hour we are entertained by Laurence’s nifty work with PowerPoint and the remote control. Consisting of witty charts (e.g. the wife and her headaches) film clips and nifty graphics, I feel this is not much of a departure from his earlier 12% Evil, although there are new laughs to be had at the expense of Americans and their abject fear of universal health care, that darn “socialised” stuff. Laurence is at his best when showing his interactions with the public, and his efforts with American medical insurance companies is hysterical. I will never hear the words “say inquiry” again without giggling.

At least Laurence performed in an accessible venue. When booking my tickets at the central office in the Royal Mile, I discover that both Chicken Shed Theatre pieces were not. Also, neither was Deaf comedian Steve Day and disabled comedian Francesca Martinez. What comment can I add? Edinburgh is brutal when it comes to access, especially the old town and I have some sympathy for how hard it is to get anywhere to do anything – accessible or not. Still, it’s a shame.

Another day another lunch and I’m at my venue in Princes Mall, by the food hall. My one-woman spoken word show Adventures in the Dark and Light is to have its Fringe debut. I have a tight knot in my stomach. This is the harsh world where inclusion and access are not automatic words in anyone’s vocabulary. Me and my cello player, Jo Cox, bumble on, trying to suss out where to put things, the logistics of parking and carrying. There’s no money and only my weeping credit card carrying me through this adventure. I’m conscious recent travels to work have left me tired and tight on time.

Yet I’ve made a wonderful discovery that I can slip into the show. Edinburgh’s “high kirk” is St Giles. A gift – since I perform a piece called Cripplegate Town, about the crips and lepers that once congregated by St Giles church in London. St Giles I am sure you know is the patron saint of cripples and the infirm!