Monday, 22 August 2016

Lovely Day?

Today was a strange day in that it took in a lot of highs and lows, with me feeling just about every emotion from happiness, to relief, to anxiety and illness (which is apparently now a psychological state).

I went to the venue this morning, a little on edge, on the back of the last two shows having gone so well. Being a pessimist, this made me suspicious; “Surely by law of averages, the next one must be bad?”

Amazingly, it didn’t. There were only four people in, but they were lovely throughout, despite there being a good chance they could be intimidated into silence by a performer eyeballing them throughout. My voice was still tired, but I had slightly more to play with than the previous day, and even managed to hold the long note at the end of the show without warbling and cracking like on Saturday.

I walked back to my digs feeling elated, but no sooner had I got back, than my mood completely dropped. I think this comes from the nervous energy and adrenalin I’d had coursing through my veins for the past couple of hours suddenly dissipating. This is what over-tiredness does; it makes you overly emotional.

Over the next few hours, with the help of a little meditation and a phone call to my mum, I’d self-regulated and was back to normality. Then, minutes before leaving to tech Fraser’s show, I was hit with a wave of anxiety; the last thing I wanted to do at this point was walk through a sea of flyerers and tourists, with me having to act like I felt okay.

Spin forward to an hour after Fraser’s show (which was great) and I was having a drink with him in the bar, which turned into a mutual debrief on the highs and the lows of the past month. It was cathartic in its own way, and felt necessary after the day up to that point. Then before I knew it, I was rushing toward Waverley Station, bolstered by a couple of pints (an alien phrase from my lips), to meet Glyn, who is up until Wednesday. We’d considered going out, but instead, spent a good few hours chatting and catching up at the digs. Finally, someone was with me who knows exactly what doing the Edinburgh Fringe is like, yet has the luxury of seeing it with a bit of separation, not doing it this year himself.

There are now only seven shows left – and while I’m by no means wishing them away, getting home will be a lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely thing.

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