The Story of The End & The Shish Kebab Epiphany

Quick! Pack up the ducks and leave town.

I did it! I'm back and recovered/recovering (somewhere between the two). It's been a fantastic journey and August was an amazing month. Although I finished the Fringe with a very deep husky voice and battling a throat infection it didn't really matter. The last two shows were at least a bit of a challenge and even 'Pointless Monday' was sort of rewarding. I didn't actually know it was called 'Pointless Monday' until I was told about it the previous week by Chris Dobrowolski of Poland 3 Iran 2. Pointless in as much as everyone should go home he said. That Monday did at least give Sean and Megan (who ran 'The Olive', my favourite Edinburgh café) the chance to come and see the show which was rather a informal affair (as they came from Canada, I kept stopping to make sure they were getting the cultural references - they had never heard of UK comedy icon 'Blakey' from On the Buses but had pretty much heard of everything else, including bubblewrap and Calvin & Hobbes). My friends Tom & Sophie also came along again to the last show and gave me a big cheer when I came through the door. So, it was a lovely way to round off the month.

I'll wrap up my Edinburgh run with an epiphany I had with a shish kebab (well, I am a poet and slightly urban. I do live almost on the A12). The incident with kebab occurred after one of the Escalator East to Edinburgh get togethers on a Thursday night. It was late and I was slightly inebriated (enough to take the edges off and to feel the glow) and it was starting to rain (I didn't mind a bit). It seemed like a very good idea to get something to eat - it was probably two-ish in the morning and at this point of the evening I always love late night takeaways, I love the lights of those last shops still open, in fact I'm like a moth to their lights! It warms my heart to see their open sign! And I fell gladly into this kebab shop or something similar and to bed down the alcohol ordered a shish kebab or at least that's what I thought I ordered. "It’ll take a few minutes" the man behind the counter said, but I didn't care because I'd been waiting a lifetime to be here. So I took a seat and looked around at the posters on the wall, from Jim Bowen to Bangkok Ladyboys and all the 6-30^th Augusts alongside umpteen unknown smiley comedians and thought, wow I’m part of this, this amazing and strange festival, with all this going on, with more than you could ever possibly see in a lifetime.

And waiting for that shish kebab, it felt like for the first time I really was doing something, something that if I I was hit by a bus or one of those late night taxis (Edinburgh is full of late night taxis and my glasses were all smeared with rain) I would be pleased to have been able to think in my last moments that I'd done this thing and how much I’ve loved doing this, the process, the performing, how much it has absorbed and fulfilled me and how I want to do more, if I’m allowed, how that excites me, that prospect (now I know the process) of doing more... all this waiting for a shish kebab because I’d been waiting you see, waiting for so long.

The man behind the counter beckoned me over and gave me my shish kebab which wasn't quite what I'd expected - it was rectangle shaped and wrapped and folded in paper. It was more or less a kebab I thought. But I didn't care and started to walk home in the rain, eating this sort of meat sandwich in a wrap, surrounded by taxis, all available with their signs lit but I didn't want any of them because I was happy to be walking - though I was glad they were there with the promise of whisking me home at a moment's notice - but I didn't need them because I was simply happy to be there at the Fringe.

Sean & Megan Adams of the Olive Cafe win Best Cafe Award & Best Place to have Breakfast in Edinburgh AwardStacy wins Best Front of House / Uke playing / Snazzy Shirt Spotting Zoo Member of Staff Award. That's the fake snazzy shirt by the way (not the original snazzy shirt), hence Stacy's reaction. He knows a cool shirt does Stacy...Here's my venue (and my home for August) - The Zoo Cabaret Bar under the harsh reality of normal lighting (without darkness plus Christmas lights which helps makes it look so magic). The Zoo wins my Lovely Venue Award and there's Sophie (pictured right), my Sound Engineer and Front of House person (in fact the only member of my front of house team) who wins my Best Zoo Keeper Award and Rather Outstanding Sound Engineer Award too. Thanks Sophie.The last of the duck posters.... 

The Story of Sanderson's Throat Specific Mixture

Sanderson's Throat Specific Mixture and Wesley, my understudy duck. Thanks to Andy Bennett (top comic and ace flyerer) for recommending the magical throat potion!

After two days of having to cancel the show and mainly gargling with the above potion (I'm not sure exactly how much it helped but it tasted so horrible that it felt like it must be doing some good - and it certainly didn't get worse which was a blessing), on Saturday I returned to the Zoo Cabaret Bar. My voice hadn’t fully recovered but had stabilised into a sort of husky rasp. I was keen to get back because it was so miserable being in Edinburgh in the final week and NOT doing the show. Another reason to do it  was that this was the day I was being filmed by Martin Watters for Escalator (part of the scheme I’m on which has made Edinburgh possible). Of all the days it had to be this one! I was expecting my smallest audience – ticket sales had come through as nil early that morning (by text) and I hadn’t been flyering or postering since my throat infection descended midweek (although I’ve still got Andy out there doggedly flyering for me of course). But I did have a couple of friends who had arrived to meet me (Sophie & Tom) so I knew I’d at least have an audience of two and I guessed (and hoped) they’d be some walk-ups on top of that.

I’d decided to use a microphone (with stand) for the poems and poem/songs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to project above the backing track. I would also take some throat spray to use during the train announcer moments (when I usually take a swig of water). I’d run through the script to make sure my new deep husky voice would be able to cope with all the accents and ‘impressions’ and discovered mostly I was going to have problems with sounding like my mother (especially her famous shouting at the dog moments). My Dad’s Yorkshire accent would today sound like a cross between Serge Gainsbourg and Bernard Manning. The rest of  the time I told myself I was sounding like Lee Marvin (I could’ve done an excellent version of ‘I was born under a wandering star’) and not like I was just recovering from a cold. 

I was actually quite nervous – I hadn’t done the show for a couple of days and that coupled with general weariness/lack of energy meant that  I felt a little anxious that it might have all disappeared and eroded in my head (of course it hadn’t).

I got there, the other Sophie (my ever-ready fab sound engineer) got the mic set up and Martin got the video equipment installed in place and at 5.10pm I disappeared behind my door and waited for my sound cue. I looked through keyhole to watch the people arrive. To my surprise there was an actual audience! Sophie and Tom came in first and were followed by a least another six of seven people. That’s okay, I told myself. I took one last drink and sprayed my throat, stepped through the door and to my complete shock the place was completed packed. Where the hell did they come from? It was full! It made me gasp (or crackle and croak, my current version of a gasp). And that’s what I love about Edinburgh. You NEVER know what to expect. It’s entirely random and wonderful. It actually made me laugh. Of course, on the third line my voice disappeared entirely (despite the fact I had intensively warmed up)! I managed to say it on the third attempt (which was a wonderful internal confidence booster) but after that my voice got better and better (or at least, I got used to my rasp). The audience, being Edinburgh, was also strange. I had laughers on the left hand side and a silent crowd on the right (which thankfully did have some smilers in). All along the way I had challenges and hurdles – Bubblewrap (my fast word list poem) has never sounded so deep and strange! Lemon Tree – when I ask the audience to sing with the chorus was more of a heartfelt plea this time than a request. They rather beautifully oblidged. But the best thing was my voice stayed and the audience stayed with me and we got through. It was a challenge and the duck and I did it. In some ways it the most pleasing show I’ve done. And who would of thought I would have needed to have lost my voice and waited till the last weekend to do it. That is the weird and strange magic of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe…

The Story of Losing My Voice

Duck in the bag (and that's where it's stayed for the last two days)

'People always get ill the last week of the Fringe' my director told me. i started week three with a feeling like I was about to get a cold but overdosed on lemsip and tangerines and by midweek I thought I was over it. About halfway through Wedneday's performance (about the time of Lemon Tree, when I'm projecting over the backing track) I could feel the power was going from my voice and during the rest of the performance it got thinner and thinner. By the evening I was croaking, by the the morning I pretty much couldn't speak. As a result I had to cancel Thursday & Friday's shows with the aim of being able to get through the final three shows over the weekend and Monday.

Missing Thursday's show did at least mean I got to go to Poland 3 Iran 2 - another Escalator East to Edinburgh Show - featuring Chris Dobrowolski and Mehrdad Seyf. I loved it. It's two blokes in a pub telling you the story of a football match in 1976 and the unlikely friendship between these two nations that goes back to World War Two. It's also the story of Chris and Mehrdad's family histories and the culture and politics that go with it. It also featured Subbuteo (table football game from the 1970s) and a Subbuteo score board (of which I had the very same score board although don't still have the box it came in like Chris does!). It looked so old now, so long ago, as did 1976 on the fuzzy film of the match that was shown as part of the show. I suppose that's because it is a long while ago. Anyhow, I was glad to have had the chance of seeing Chris and Mehrdad in action, albeit in weird voice-losing circumstances. Aiming to be back at the Cabaret Bar tomorrow though - I've been gargling all day with Sanderson's Throat Specific Mixture as recommended by my flyerer (and Edinburgh veteren). It seems to be working...

The Story of Three Coincidences

 Lemon Tree, three feet high...

(excerpt from) Lemon Tree, Three Feet High, To Be Carried Across London

with a single sample of full grown fruit that hangs precarious

from its lowest branch.

Yellowing

hand grenade, solo bauble, dangly earring, citric scrotum,

an only child sleeping,

rocking,

that slender stem.

*

My sister Nicola arrived to stay for a few days and on Tuesday afternoon we went for a wander down South Clerk to find a place for a quick bite to eat. We came across a nice little place called The Olive Café – I fancied the baked potato it advertised on a hand-written A board outside, Nicola liked the sound of lemon drizzle cakes. They also offered 10% discount to Edinburgh Fringe performers.

As soon as we got in there we knew it was a special place. The owner seemed very friendly, very talkative. He introduced himself immediately – his name was Sean (he did the cooking), his wife Megan (did the baking). They had been in Edinburgh two years, he was studying a Phd in Ancient Greek and the café had been open six months. I told him about the show and he offered to have some flyers around the café (which is always nice).

As we sat waiting for the food, Nicola suddenly said ‘Dean, look, lemon tree!’. I swung around to look out the window and couldn’t see anything in the street. ‘What? Have I missed something? Was there a man in the street carrying a lemon tree?’ She pointed again to the window, ‘No,’ she said, ‘inside the window’. And there, behind me, was a lemon tree three feet high with one lemon on its branches. When Sean and Megan came back to deliver our baked potato and cake, I told him about how I had a poem about a ‘Lemon Tree’ in my one man show. They liked that. Megan said she had always wanted a lemon tree and how when she came across this particular tree was dying and she lovingly nurtured it and it now sits pride of place in their window. The lemon wasn’t actually real though, it was a plastic one, which she’d put on the tree to encourage it along (and it was really difficult to track down a plastic lemon too!). She asked me to bring the poem in – she’d like to put it in the window, next to the tree.

As we started the food, smiling at the coincidence, I suddenly recognised a song in the background (I had noticed they had a quiet but lovely jazz soundtrack playing in the background) but this song was Frank Sinatra (not my favourite singer by far) but it was Frank Sinatra singing ‘That’s Life’. And that was the second coincidence. I mention that very song in the show – I suggest it as the ideal song for my Dad’s funeral (that’s life / that’s what people say / ridin’ high in April / shot down in May). I ran to the counter and called out to them (they’d disappeared round the back) – ‘Hello! Hello!’ I shouted, as they both emerged with quizzical expressions on their faces, ‘This song! This song is also in my show!’. They took it quite well. I mean, I am on week three of my Edinburgh run and slightly unhinged when it comes down to it, but I was visibly excited at this coincidence and they did genuinely seem happy for me!

When I sat down again, Nicola and I began to look for a third coincidence (as things do come in threes). We didn’t have to look far – on the wall was a poster for Deano Beano’s Cappuccino.  I mentioned this to Sean (it seemed a rather flimsy coincidence – me sharing the same name as a type of coffee) who smiled and then said, ‘Actually, it’s not real coffee’. He then pointed to tins of the coffee lined on the wall, all with Deano Beano labels, ‘It’s a fictitious coffee. I liked the idea of having a café with fictitious coffee!’. It seems they have a mischievous friend called Dean, who is a graphic designer (he’s the guy pictured with the 50s style hat in the advert), who came up with fake logo for a fake brand of coffee, using his own name in the process. Sean added, ‘Sometimes people come in, see it on the wall and order some. It always makes me smile.’ So, there’s the three coincidences – a three foot high Lemon Tree, a Frank Sinatra song and another Dean with a sense of mischief. All found in a lovely café on a street in Edinburgh. You couldn’t make it up… 

Deano Beano - I am available for the advert (although I don't actually drink coffee...)

The Story of The Shirt & The Pictures

The Duckman in action - The Zoo's very own photographer Owain Shaw paid a visit to the Cabaret Bar at the weekend

Just been given some nice pics of the show - taken by Zoo photographer Owain Shaw - which certainly catches the magic of the Cabaret Bar (unfortunately there's also a bald man and a duck in most of them). I've put up a selection of these pics in my gallery on this blog - for quick access follow this link http://bit.ly/9pTw3K . It also catches me in my lucky Edinburgh shirt. I've actually got about six or seven performance shirts but after the first fews days and a few anxious performances I suddenly hit my stride when I started wearing this shirt (it's sort of a dark blue with little tiny red roses on it). It's an old shirt - I don't know how old but probably ten years (I certainly wore it at the Arvon Jerwood Young Poets course and during my first visit to Sarah Lawrence College in the US in 2003). And every time I wore it the show seemed to go with a swing. Every time I didn't it just didn't seem to go as well. I'm sure that wasn't the case but every afternoon when it came to the time to choose the shirt, to look in the wardrobe and pick one out, I just found myself thinking 'the blue roses' shirt. One of the guys who works front of the house at The Zoo - a top chap called Stacey - in fact commented on my shirts, particularly liking the blue roses one. Good taste transcends the generations doesn't it? So, Imagine my pleasure when by a strange quirk of fate, I happened to find myself in a department store in Edinburgh in the men's clothing section and there I was, face to face with an almost identical blue rose shirt. It wasn't exactly the same - the original was the better shirt - but it was near enough. I had to buy it didn't I? And so now whenever I see Stacey at the venue I ask him - is this the orginal or fake blue roses shirt? He's got it right every time... but he has to look closely. Which probably looks strange to onlookers or any Zoo punters.

I seem to be falling victim to the traditional week three Edinburgh cold - had that ache in my throat this morning and started sneezing properly this evening. In between I had a lovely Monday audience (despite the grey day and rain) and hopefully managed to keep the energy up throughout the show. Nicola, my sister, was in the audience today (she's up here staying with me for a few days) which was jolly.  The Parkins even hit Edinburgh this evening - well, The Dragon's Way Chinese Restauant...