Not long to go now

It's almost over and I have only just found the perfect place for breakfast: Valvona and Crolla on Elm Row. Everyone in the world knows about it, except me. Michael Maloney and his partner took me and I feasted on a bacon roll with baked cherry tomatoes. (Ok, not very Italian, but who cares? We are WORLD people, dammit.). Also, excellent place for buying end of run presents. (I am so happy I have found a blend of tea that's actually called Mad Hatter and promises a taste of Wonderland. Since Wonderland is what my play at the Assembly Rooms is called, who could ask for anything more?). Piff the Magic Dragon was at the next table. At breakfast, V and C is the happening place.

Not long to go now. The best reviews will appear on the last day: we all know that. And those of us doing comedy (eg me at 4.30 daily at Pleasance One) know that we will never be happy however long the queues, however loud the cheers . As the delightful John Bishop said to me on Tuesday, "Even when you are sold out with 5 stars, all you can see from the stage are the two empty seats in the third row and the guy who isn't laughing.". I had a guy sitting bang in the middle of the front row last week who lay back in a catatonic stupour, mouth open, eyes staring. I thought he was dead until half-way through the show when he started grunting and groaning - during my best bit. Ho hum. This is show business.

I haven't seen half the shows I wanted to see. Still haven't got to Michael Topping or Des O'Connor, let alone the legendary Jim Bowen. I am catching Jack Whitehall on Friday and I did manage the magnificent Caledonia at the King's Theatre. (The National Theatre of Scotland is the best thing to happen to the arts in this country in a generation.). Gotta start packing now. And wrapping the presents. I will miss it all next week. Well, not quite all. I won't miss the ghastly electronic bagpipe music blaring from that shop on North Bridge. And I won't miss the toilets backstage at Pleasance One. Oh yes, there have been touches of harsh reality amid the dreams on the Fringe.