Is it sad that the most exotic place I've travelled to this summer thus far was for work?
These last few months since the demise of university life have revolved around earning money and staycationning to the max: days spent slogging for the promise of pounds lighting up the dwindling bank account, no sooner to be deposited than to be flung towards nationalrail.co.uk or Sainsburys and their alluring alcohol offers (Jose Cuervo Margharita Mix is my find of the summer and foe of the pancreas.
I may moan about living in Preston, home to North End and once notable for the national Football Museum - until it closed down - but, without sounding like a GCSE geography student on a coursework trip, you can't fault it for its impeccable transport links.
Case Study #1: PTown to London Euston in an eeney meeny 2 hours and 3 minutes flat meant i could dash back from work oop here and still rendezvous for Happy Hour off Regents Street. It isn't however, an ideal length for trying to shake off that big-smoke hangover.
Case Study #2: To the Lake District. Bung animals, coolboxes, tents of cavernous wet weather gear into your chosen vehicle and a simple zip up the M6 later you're welcomed into the comforting green folds of Wordsworth country. Have a go if you think you're hard enough at peak-climbing and mountain biking (I did. Fail).
Case Study #3: Edinburgh. Having been sucked into the repugnant perpetual myth that all culture desists the further one gets from London's buzzing metropolis, I forget how simple and how CHEAP it is to get an express northwards to Scotland's capital. A return ticket for about £30 will secure you passage on one of the most epic train routes Western Europe has to offer: a most cliche-ridden, beautiful sight, all crumpled green velvet humps and silvery brooks.
What awaits you on arrival plops the glace cherry on the cake; never mind the glorious architecture looming over Waverly Station and Princes Street, go right ahead and soak up the stench of performance and excitement the city buzzes with during August in celebration of the one and only Edinburgh Festival.
Now in its 64th year of existence, the largest cultural event in the world dominates daily life in Edinurgh during August each year. Flat rents triple, you can't buy a pint of milk without being savagely leaflet-ed and it's fairly likely that a night out will conclude dancing to cheese in a uni exam hall for FREE at 5 am in the morning.
This year marked my first-ever Fringe, and it was as spectacularly glorious as I could have ever hoped. Days spent wandering the throngs of people cluttering the Royal Mile to watch great and not-so good street performers, the moments spent rapturously engrossed in some fantastic theatre, laughing so much tears streamed down my face at a particularly rib-tickling piece of comedy. Nights melted into a mesh of friends and faces, gin and goon-ish dancing, whether to Barry Manilow bounces in a stained glass tent or Jason Derulo in a packed-out uni building.
Somewhat wisely for the sake of my battered wallet, we tackled the myriad of shows on offer at the rate of one a day. Here is my attempt at a rundown.
Friday: Showstopper! The Improvised Musical
I think you might have got the gist of this by its very title. The premise: audience throw out suggestions for themes, music types and musical-esque numbers which these oh-so talented team of actors take and conjure into a riproaringly good musical. The theme of that night was "Ancient Eygpt", and it was with a flamenco guitar twist and inspiration from Wicked! Les Miserables and High School Musical (coughcough...) that this stupdendous group took to the stage. Worth every single penny.
Saturday: Hood! (Peculius Stage)
Ignorant idiot that I am, my theatre viewing choices have always stayed safely within the bounds of "comedy", "musical", or "Shakespeare". Thank God then, for the Peculius Stage (and invitation by the ohso talented Megan Smith!). As soon as one walks into the room it is as if one has been consumd by a forest with a fantastically eerie atmosphere embued by the players. Think Tim Burton on a crash course collision with Little Red Riding Hood with acapella vocals Simon Cowell would slay a wolf for and you're about halfway into the woods.
Sunday: A Midsummer's Night Madness (Hackney Harlem)
For my final show in this fair city, it was the irresistable combination of the Bard's 'Dream and hiphop stylings which turned my head. I wasn't disappointed. Even if you detest Shakespeare with a passion, the sheer geniuses of the Hackney Harlem Theatre Company will have you diving for any A level text upon leaving the theatre. Brilliantly reworked for a modern day audience yet threading in (and using to full effect) orginal lines, the result was a resounding sucess which really made me appreciate the comedy factor of Shakespeare's plays; the sheer comedic force of Bottom attempting to do all the parts (in the guise of a traffic warden) made me laugh my mascara off. Playing at the Hackney Empire very soon, I cannot recommend this enough.
I found a cheeky clip of the group rehearsing if you'd like a taste of their skillz.
Staycationning: the future.
© Miranda Thompson 2010.
DISCLAIMER: The video links hosted on my blog are not being presented as my own. If you believe that the copyright in your work has been violated through this post, please contact me through the blog
No comments:
Post a Comment