MenoFest; 'twasn't all about the car...

On the final day in Edinburgh, that being the 24th August, I no longer had to concern myself about Li'l Ren. When I had returned from my Wednesday evening show, I took her down to get fuel and she continued to purr, so we were both happy. I loaded her up with all but the clothes for the next two days and that was me ready and relaxed to take on the very full agenda for the Thursday.

On said morning, I realised I had not checked the bus timetables to get to the first venue (for 10am). At 8.30am, it was discovered that I would need to get out the door within ten minutes. Tsk. Okay, grab the YAMroid, onto which I had downloaded a sketch app. The first event was to be at the Modern Art Gallery over in New Town, with Phill Jupitus, comedian. He'd pick a piece of art and we'd all attempt to reproduce it. What fun. Or it might have been.

There's a lot of waiting around in queues
at this Fringe caper...

I'd not turned the power on at the wall for re-juice.

.......................................................

I was exhausted on all levels from the topsy-turvy week. It was a signal. Forget the morning event. Just relax. So I got on and did the entire set of house chores, including changing my bed, ironing, etc. Why not eh? Not wasted hours then.

Got on the bus at 10;45 to reach my cousin's place by 11;30 where we were going to have lunch before setting off for an afternoon of culture together. Also to meet another cousin I had not met - young Oskar, being three times removed, from Melbourne OZ, and all of 18 years senior. We met up again with him and cousin's hubby for the evening show, but first cousin and I had to get up to The Stand in York Place for an hour with Phill Jupitus, but this time as two other characters, namely Vernon Herschel Harley and Korvettenkapitan  Kurt Schiffer. These characters were only going to become known to us as a result of questions posed by the audience. It didn't go well with the first query, so I stuck my hand up and enquired as to early years of Mr Harley, thespian and orator, who, it transpired, had died last week aged 117 years. It was good, off-the-cuff improv and as I noted to "cuzzy" as we walked up the street later, my cheeks were still twitching with the laughter, so it had been worth the pennies. I snuck this couple of flash-less - and therefore fuzzy - shots of the 'two men'.

Cuzzy and I decided to take a gander in the Portrait Gallery, a block up the street. One of those ornate Victorian edifices which houses a variety of modern interpretations of art. Immediately inside the door was a free installation experience. A cube-shaped room, entirely black, with spotlight on a tree-like structure made out of bronze ropes, one 'branch' forming a noose-like loop. It was hauntingly beautiful. Behind it was a seat and there were four screens against the far wall. A cello on one, then violin, followed by voice artist of the Rastafarian persuasion and a double bass on each of the other two. The Slave's Lament is a poem by Robbie Burns, who also wrote the basic melody for it to be sung. There have been many interpretations (tomorrow's post will carry one), but this setting was outstanding.

After a mesmerising 15 minutes we stirred ourselves and headed upstairs to the photographic exhibit which had pulled us there.

I had never heard of Rock House (or Hill and Adamson) prior to this. Turns out the place is privately owned and is up for rental as a holiday accommodation. Very nice too...

We partook of refreshments at the gallery cafeteria. I ordered Crabbie's ginger beer (cold) and a raspberry white choc slice. I got a large pot of (hot) chamomile and liqourice infusion and a chocolate brownie. The girl had some difficulty with my accent it seems. Cuzzy got her ordered coffee and teacake. Maybe it was my face.

It was good though.

Next stop was another block along to visit an auctioneer house where there was a charity art exhibition on. As I had earlier that week parted company with a hefty ransom on behalf of Li'l Ren, I made no purchase - but golly I was tempted.

What I wasn't told prior, was that a friend of cuzzy's had a piece on show. I was sitting admiring three canvases in particular, but one kept drawing my eye back... it happened to sneak into the very far left of the room view the Fudge snapped off (look at that architecture!)

Yes, so look again. Far left at the top. Dimensions slightly distorted by wide-angle, but you see the one I mean. I love it and the two to the right of it, one below the other. Cuzzy came round and asked what I was looking at. I pointed to that darker one and she announced it was her pal's! She texted him right away. I made it clear I did not have the budget - but if I did...

(That's cuzzy. She's shy, so t'was the only way to get her in the lens!)

We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves but realised that time was racing by and we had to meet up with the lads to get along to the next paid show. More on that in the next MenoFest post.