Fringe Fatigue

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is a cruel mistress. It’s a special kind of hell if you’re tired or disabled, as I discovered working there the other day. I knew it would be insanely crowded, but take a wrong turn and it’s hard to navigate. Steps, students and tourists who, lost, stop dead in front of you and won’t budge, no matter how polite you are, contribute to the chaotic melee.

I both love and hate the Edinburgh Festival. I’ve been covering it for fourteen years now as a critic, and it can still delight in a gazillion ways, but oh, the exhaustion. Edinburgh Fringe fatigue is unlike any other, because the whole city is sensory overload. It clings to your bones. Every space has something bizarre, fun or excruciating going on. It’s a hot, sweaty stew of humanity in all of its multifaceted glory.

A word to Fringe virgins: if you are going, don’t go near the Royal Mile, get a good map,rehydrate, and keep your wits about you. And avoid the free comedy… It’s usually shit.