No-Show Monday

Almost halfway through the Fringe! My body is running on two parts gin, one part sheer determination at this stage, and it's only going to get worse... Today is No-Show Monday and my first day off. Annoyingly that means there's a limited choice of shows to catch up on today.

We're having the busiest Fringe in years. I keep saying that it feels like Edinburgh is busier than normal and apparently I'm not just being jaded and cynical, it really is. My venue has had more people through it's doors already this month than in the whole of August last year. It's mind-boggling. And exhausting. And exciting. And tiring.
Even more surprising than the number of people buzzing around town is the fact that there's only been two days of rain so far.

The rain always brings out the worst in audiences. An American man (who called me over by asking if I was 'a manager sort of person.') informed me that queueing outside was unacceptable considering we have a perfectly fine 'covered area.' When I explained to him that this covered area was, in fact, a fire exit and unsuitable to hold upwards of sixty people he replied, 'I'm sure if there was a fire, they'd get out of there pretty sharp.' Yes. Because that's the point. The rain has also brought out the worst in me I fear. There's nothing I hate more than a queue jumper. Some audiences will stand outside in the pouring rain, freezing cold, at all hours of the day, waiting to get into a venue. And others will hover under the safety of umbrellas or bar covers and run into the queue as soon as it starts to move. I hate those people. I shouted at a large group of them the other day. Of course, they don't care, but it made me feel a little better.

I thought I should start sharing some of the things that have happened to me thus far this Fringe. The first is sort of funny but also sort of not. During the load-in of a sold out show on Friday night a drunk patron walked up to me and said, 'Wow, you look like my future ex-wife.' Charming. There's nothing like a late night comedy show and cheap beer to bring out the real quality in people. The second was the other night when a group of customers almost started a fight in our theatre because someone was saving a seat. Talking that situation down was as ridiculous as it sounds. I've had several people swear in my face and brandish their tickets at me instead of letting me check them. (Several times a day I'll try to tear a ticket and have to do so whilst it remains in the clutches of it's owner, who seems to think that despite my radio and staff ID, I'm going to steal their ticket and run away.) Then there have been the complaints. I've been told that I don't know how to do my job because we ask people to queue. I've been informed that our tickets are too expensive. I've been asked to give a refund because they arrived too late to get access into a no-latecomers performance. Each day I've fended off complaints about the sight lines in my venue. Customers seem surprised when I explain that I literally cannot do anything but apologise about any of this. I am completely powerless.

However on another note there have been lots of nice things said about the team I work with and about the shows we have on in our venue. It's just annoying because I rarely remember when I hear something positive but being yelled at can stay with me for the rest of the day.

On to the final two weeks of the Fringe.

Top shows from this week
Ross and Rachel @ George Square
Antigone @ The King's Theatre

Week 1

Made it through the first weekend alive. I'm already a little more than exhausted but its probably good to get acclimatised as early as possible. After the rush of preview prices we're in to a new rush in the form of 2 for 1 Monday and Tuesday. There is truly no rest for the wicked!

The first days have given me the chance to refresh my, "I'm terribly sorry you and your six children couldn't see one corner of the stage but we don't do refunds," face. A key weapon in any FOH's artillery. Second only to the, "I'm sure you are very important but you're not wearing a pass so I'm not letting you in," speech.

Thus far I've had near death experiences, vomiting and general  drunkness galore at my venue. But in true Fringe style I've also met some lovely people who travel to come to the Fringe every year and love everything about it. When the days are as long as ours are, it really makes a difference when someone is grateful for what Front of House to. Nine times out of ten we get shouted at for asking patrons to turn their phones off, or abused for enforcing a no latecomers policy, and so it makes a pleasant change when customers say thank you. Someone told me yesterday that they were really impressed by the standard of our staff and it actually made my day.


Front of House are normally the butt of everyone's jokes here. Its our fault if shows start late. Its our fault if the audience are angry. Its practically our fault when the heavens open and it starts pouring it down. We can't do much about that last one but, believe me when I say, we do everything to make the Fringe as amazing as humanly possible.


Show recommendation - The Jennifer Tremblay Trilogy at Assembly Roxy. Absolutely beautiful series of 3 one woman shows. Incredible.

Five Days Till Fringe

Working at the Fringe is hard, amazing, tiring, exhilarating, boring, exciting... and every other adjective you could possibly think of. Every day seems to last three weeks and yet before you know it you wake up and it's the last day of shows. 

I've started to think that the Fringe is actually pumped full of that stuff they put in Pringles so you have to finish the whole tin. It doesn't matter how many times I finish at 3am before going back to work five hours later. Or how many times I have abuse hurled at me by audience who are angry at the rain (this happens every day.) I'm always back for more the next year. 

This year I've decided to keep track of some of the more hilarious, offensive or down-right ridiculous, things that happen to me throughout August.

The Fringe officially starts this weekend. Preview prices - which are only slightly extortionate as opposed to mortgage-your-home-to-pay-for-two-tickets expensive, make for a hilariously hectic Edinburgh. It's a baptism of fire for anyone starting work at the Fringe. If, like me, you've been doing it for years, it fills you with a sort of dull dread. It's like a wave of hell, sprinkled with sold-out shows and impossible turn arounds. We can't stop it. We can't change it. We can endure it.  

The actual occupants of Edinburgh have all already migrated south like terrified birds because this is no time to live in the capital if you have real things to do (like work, go to Tesco's, walk down the Royal Mile without having half a rainforest of flyers shoved in your face.) In their place are hundreds upon thousands of artists, street performers, student theatre groups who think they're the most out-there thing since sliced bread and of course the hard-working people who run the Fringe! 

As always I'm hopeful that this year it will be sunny. And that this year all the shows will go on without a hitch. And that this year no one will swear at me because of a five minute delay. And that this year I'll get enough sleep... 

Optimistic.