Lou Conran: Small Medium at Large

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“You’ll think I’m bonkers,” admits Lou Conran, early in her debut hour. In fact, she isn’t bonkers enough. If Conran were a more psychedelic, starry-eyed character, her troublesome stories of supernatural encounters could be passed off as the fanciful concoctions of a space cadet. But she seems much too normal to be seeing visions of ghostly houseguests and prophetic green energy balls hovering over friends’ shoulders. You’d think she was making it all up for comic effect, but that energy-ball story ends far too unpleasantly to be fabricated. It’s all slightly unnerving.

Which is unexpected, given how lovely her venue is – one of the Fringe’s finest, in fact. Despite this being her first hour, Conran has managed to secure her own dedicated caravan in the Assembly Gardens and decked it out like a festival fortune-teller’s lair. From the décor, poster, and, indeed, her introductory section, you’d assume that this show is an immersive character effort. In fact Conran quickly loses the exotic airs and cracks on with an enlightening tale of dead bodies, freaky happenings and supernatural intercourse.

The setting makes for a novel audience experience, as everyone (well, 12 at most) faces each other on the cosy caravan couches: you do find yourself going "ooh!" at the random stranger opposite. Conran makes good use of the intimate setting, involving us all in a non-threatening manner, and her storytelling gets stronger as the show progresses. Come the final curtain, we may have experienced some unnerving tales, but we’ve done it together. A spooky static-caravan of love.