IÕve been coughing and spluttering for the last couple of days. Looks like IÕve got the Edinburgh flu. Something to do with too many late night gigs, early gigs, sweating like a pig, drying off, changing clothes, running to the next gig, sweating again, etc etc. I doubt that it can have anything to do with Guinness or going outside for a fag.
I think my lasting memory of this Edinburgh is going to be the smoking ban. As a rule IÕm not too good at talking to people I donÕt know but this year IÕve probably spoken to more people than I have in my whole life. IÕve met some very nice people and some lunatics and I have to say itÕs been great fun trying to figure out which is which.
In London we know that a lack of eye contact will keep you out of all sorts of trouble on the street but in Edinburgh youÕre giving out flyers or just being nice to attract people to your show. When I pop out for a fag I invariably end up talking to someone whether I like it or not.
Yesterday I was talking to Peter Buckley Hill outside Canons Gait. I canÕt remember what we were talking about but at one point Peter said Ō Well in my opinionÉĶ At that moment a Rab C Nesbitt look-a-like (with too much hair) staggered out of the pub and boomed ŌWell in my fuckin opinionÉ Peter boomed back ŌIN MY OPINION YOU HAVE JUST ENCROACHED ON OUR CONVERSATION!Ķ
It didnÕt put him off, he said ŌWell actually IÕm bored with your conversationÉ I want to listen to his conversation (turning to me) I said ŌWell IÕve just finished my conversationĶ and disappeared downstairs to do the gig. Seconds later Peter came down. So all in all it wasnÕt much of a conversation.
Mind you Peter did mention that heÕd managed to talk Ross Noble into doing his gig. Ross turned up – did the gig, and they all lived happily ever after.