Thursday 24th of August, 2000
The Third World's revenge on the First, perhaps?
I intend to go to the gym, but realise my t-shirt and other exercise clothing is in the washing machine along with the majority of my shirts. Potter. Go to charity shops to get more shirts. Buy three and wear one (a blue short-sleeved one).
I am now usually dressed entirely (save shoes and underwear) in clothes I have got second-hand Edinburgh. I worry whether this is a trend - that if I am not the only person who does a lot of clothes-buying in Edinburgh, and we are destroying the second-hand clothes ecosystem by transplanting vast numbers of shirts and trousers to other parts of the UK and, indeed, the world.
Having not managed to get to the gym, I get on a bus to see Laura, who is staying with friends near the Botanical gardens. A blind chap gets on - it might be instructive to repeat the conversation I overheard - he asked:
"Where are we?" (Important - that was his question)
To which a woman told him the name of the road.
"But where are we?" he asked again.
"Outside the post-office"
At this point the blind chap exploded - "That's no good to me! You stupid woman! I need to get off at the first stop on Ferry Road! Idiots - you're all idiots!"
Which elicited no further response, the various old ladies in his vicinity to shocked to say anything.
The driver became involved - I don't know what he said to the chap, but it certainly quieted him down. And he got off at the first stop on Ferry Road, no doubt with a story complaining of the idiocy of the sighted.
I got off soon after that when the bus turned sharply right and began to go from Well Out Of My Way to Terra Incognita. Call Laura to explain my geographical inconvenience and walk to where in the A-Z Sally and Ian's house, where Laura was staying, was supposed to be - this being Edinburgh, the road had one name and the houses on either side of the road different names (and all the names were variations on a few words), so it took me a while to find the right place, although it was blindingly obvious when I got there. Also discover that a number 8 bus goes from my door to that of Sally and Ian's.
Very nice, big house. Have cup of tea and then visit the Botanical Gardens, where we hope to find some lunch. We find the tea-house, but they are not serving real food, so I make do with a coffee and a cake. Go into the gallery where there is an exhibition by Laurence Wiener, the kind of person who gives conceptualism a bad name. Very dull, and no less dull for being all over the house.
Next we visit the glasshouses - I am not, myself, a plant person, and cannot tell one fern from another. Interesting to see that most of my vices (coffee, chocolate and sugar) come from the tropical house. The Third World's revenge on the First, perhaps? There was also the old Glasshouse where there was once a gigantic palm, which had to be cut down twenty years ago, because it was about to go through the ceiling (although I think that the proper Victorian response - this being a very Victorian sort of place - would have been to put extensions on the roof - something telescopic perhaps). My favourite room is the Arid house, which resembles a set from the 60s Star Trek.
Wander over to where Kath Tait and Jane Bom Bane are doing their show - a bit of an epic wander not helped by the fact that I get Broughton Street and Broughton Road confused and we stroll off in the wrong direction for five minutes. We are about to give up on the venue (it is, of course, at the opposite end of the road from that which we start from) when we come upon it. Hurrah. It appears that Jane has one hand in a bandage, but we don't ask why.
Having ascertained that the start time is at 6:30 (in half an hour) we go to see if we can find anything we can call lunch. The only local thing is a baked potato takeaway, so laura has a potato with coleslaw and I have a roll with tuna salad (that is to say, largely cucumber). Having eaten it we miss the first minute or so of Jane/Kath's set, which explains how she damaged her arm, so that will remain a mystery. Very fringey small audience (including children), but still very enjoyable - some great new songs from Kath. Sit around chatting after the performance. Get explanation of the dramatic fall that led to the bandage on Jane's arm.
Stroll to the gig - smaller audience, more difficult to get "lift-off" as Phil puts it. Hang around the Cafe Royal for a bit. Go to all night shop and buy corned beef and make a sandwich. Tell myself that it is no worse than a kebab. Don't entirely believe myself.