Pride comes before a fall. In the run up to this year's Edinburgh Fringe I've been enjoying good preview shows and good ticket sales, and had lots of lovely work up until the event meaning I can (almost) afford to do it this year. Hev in turn was about to come up for the start of the Fringe in order to do an art installation in town, so all promising all round. But, I admit, we were both excessively nervous when we set off.
A perfect drive up, which I think I also gloated about on Twitter. Then the fun starts. The flat is not very good. Can't call it crap (stayed in worse personally) but it's the first year Hev will be up here for so long and the last two year's flats have been excellent. This year's is smaller, grodier, in poor state of repair, tiny kitchen, studenty in look, and though I'd probably not notice, she's not enjoying it for starters.
The stress of that compounded on yesterday meaning that, by the time of my tech rehearsal, my nerves were jangling, and trying to get a drink after the show was harder. Simply wanted to get a can of beer to take back to the flat. This is impossible after 10pm so had to go for a drink, on my own, in the Hullaballo Gardens feeling pathetic while Hev waited in flat. Shattered by end of first draining day.
Then woken at 7.20 this morning by neighbours in flat above us back home. There's been a lek so bad it's gone into the flat below us. And of course we've left none of them with a key. Our friends who usually look after our cat have key, but we now have no cat so we don't even know if they're in town. We wake to the thought of our flat looking like the Titanic, and 9 days before we can do anything about it. Oh brilliant start to the bloody season.