Air Canada has cancelled many or all of its direct flights to Heathrow from St. John’s, so many of us had to travel to Halifax around supper time to get the transatlantic flight late Thursday evening.  We arrived in Heathrow shortly after dawn, cleared UK Customs, and dashed across the airport, got on several escalators, staircases, moving sidewalks, then cleared customs again, for some reason, and secondary security and jumped aboard two different buses and a sub terminal train, to arrive at our connecting flight to Scotland which I’m certain was only three gates away from where we started.  I love England.  I really do.  I also have a fondness for London.  Heathrow, however, could very well be Hell on Earth.  I’m serious.  Fire and Brimstone could not possibly be as hellish and claustrophobic as this self confessed dangerously out of date and over run facility.  You guys know I hate airports, and Heathrow is the worst of the lot.

Enough whining.

The crew guys and Bob headed for Inverness while Sean, Murray, Kris and I made it to Edinburgh by lunch time on Friday and the sun began to shine the moment we stepped onto the sidewalk of the hotel which affords a perfect view of the Famous Royal Mile and Edinburgh Castle.  I nipped over the Edinburgh from Glasgow a few years back when GBS was playing the Celtic Connections Festival.  The train ride between the two cities is very short and I got the chance for a quick glance at what I now consider to be the loveliest city in the UK.  The Fringe Festival was in full swing when we arrived.  The Fringe is one of the greatest collections of extroverts you’ll ever witness.  Actors, dancers, musicians, comedians, painters, sculptors, and buskers from all nations descend on Edinburgh to flaunt their wares in this Orgy of the Arts.  I have a soft spot for any one willing to stand in front of me or a group that I’m in, and do something exclusively for my or our entertainment.  I think the world is a better place because of this Company of Fools, and I am a card carrying member to prove it.

We saw some street music and performances, all of which were worth a listen and a look.  We sat in a street side café and watched folks come and go.  Tom Hanks walked by at one point.  I assume he must be working in the area or just an Edinburgh lover like us.  The whole city was consumed by the festival.  Every ten steps we bumped into someone handing out pamphlets or cards for their show or performance.  Many of them were in full costume.  A very sexy Little Red Riding Hood invited me to the park at 7 pm while the ever present Peruvian pan flute players played “Bridge Over Troubled Waters”. 

In the evening we saw a few standup comedians.  This has to be the hardest gig in show business.  I watched some fairly gifted gal from London die a thousand deaths during her ill-received performance in the back of one of the zillion venues offering Fringe acts.  Like I said, she was OK, and OK can work just fine for a lot of gigs, say you’re an Irish pub singer, or the rhythm guitar player in a rock cover band, the drummer in Beatle mania,  the shaker player in Santana, the fourth sax player in a big band, …you get the picture.  There are many performance gigs where OK will get the job done and you can learn to hide behind your friends talents to mask your own shortcomings.  Trust me; I’ve done it for years.  Stand up comics may as well be naked on stage.  No help from anywhere in sight and nothing short of outbursts of uncontrollable laughter is considered a success.  In music terms, it would be like requiring a standing ovation three times a song.  Almost impossible to succeed.  Can’t believe anyone would do it for a living.

I wanted to continue late into the night, but the fact that I’d not been asleep in nearly forty hours coupled with my desire to not suck at the Runrig gig sent me to an early bed.

More later.

Cheers,
Alan