I don't usually go to Ould Reekie during the Festival but had no option. Edinburgh is not at its best when enfogged. The
cognoscentii avoid the main thoroughfares at this time-the Royal Mile full of street performers -including stomach turning contortionists, weightless acrobats and young people thrusting flyers at you with the trained aggression of a Big Issue vendor. Princes Street is as crowded but without the performances and nowhere can you escape the flyers-even quiet Queen Street -I managed to acquire 42 of these in 400 yards. Not too much to tempt the potential audience I would have thought: the Wau Wau sisters: 'two girls, white panties and one trapeze' 'Doris from Bradford-the Lunatic, the Secret Sportsman and the Women next door.Mongoose-an enchanting tale of Ted trying to come to terms with the death of his life-long friend, a talking Mongoose. Riveting? Liberace's Handbag. A Suicide-Site Guide to the City:-"Sheer Lucid Genius" claims the Vancouver Sun' The Puppetry of the Penis: Two Aussie Hunks(?) playing with their private parts -difficult to keep it up ( as it were, I would have thought) for a whole hour.
Better stay in Hutton and watch the Bill.
And the people who flock into the city to see and be seen. Princes Street is their promenade.
Well described by Rumbling Mc Diarmid, of the Paxton School, in his 'Six and the City:
tattooed midriffs;
Bursting Blouses
Beckhamed heads
Well filled trousers
Only the Beggar
is happy.
Despite his wee dog
crapping over
his FCUK
T-shirt
I passed an obvious granny lovingly pushing her grandchild in one of those old fashioned preambulators and crooning lullabies-I peered in to smile at a hopefully beaming little bairn.
It was full of tatty second hand books. Life has its downsides.
