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**** (4 stars)

“What an Evening”

When I was wee, and lived in the south of England, my family and I used to listen to the radio together [this was in the days before every home had a television the size of a postage stamp].  There were the Goons, Round the Horne, the Navy Lark and the Men from the Ministry.  The Goons, in particular, were a great influence on me – their ridiculous sense of humour seemed perfectly sensible to me…

One voice I remember very clearly from this time, because its accent was to me [an innocent Sassenach] the strangest and funniest I had ever heard.  Instantly recognisable, it sounded completely poker-faced as it told stories from its owner’s childhood in the Gorbals and sang simple songs – but again and again there were eccentric, throwaway comments and descriptions in his anecdotes, and quirky, incongruous lines in his songs.  I absolutely loved this man’s words and voice – Ivor Cutler.

So, when I saw in the Book Festival programme a session entitled Hamish Hawk: Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, vol 0, I knew I had to be there.  I confess upfront that I had no idea who Hamish Hawk was, but was really excited at the prospect of what the programme described as a rare, lyrical homage to Scotland’s pre-eminent poet-eccentric.  Even better, we were offered the chance to see and hear Cutler’s own harmonium, the quaintly droning sounds of which were an integral part of the joy of listening to the man’s songs.

What an evening!  Not only was there the joy of hearing some of Cutler’s own words – and his inimitable songs – but there was the unexpected joy of hearing Hamish Hawk’s own words in anecdotes about his own Edinburgh childhood in Fairmilehead.  I don’t know Hamish’s songs, but his prose writing is brilliant – such precise descriptions of family life that I could feel I was there with him as he tried to navigate life with his parents and two older siblings.  Both Cutler and Hawk have a wonderful mastery of words, and are not above embellishing the truth while also celebrating and suffering the awkwardnesses of growing up in less than affluent circumstances.

Most of the songs were Cutler’s and I loved them all – though a special mention has to go to A bubble or two for its wonderfully macabre narrative, and Face like a lemon where a conventional love song is subverted by the descriptions of the beloved…  An excellent touch in the show was the use of a wonderful red velvet fez-like hat with a giant tassel: when wearing it, Hamish was using Ivor’s words and without it, they were his own.

It was a wonderfully absurd and delightfully entertaining evening, which the audience absolutely adored.  And it didn’t end when Hamish delivered his own song, Catherine opens a window – the subsequent conversation with Nicola Meighan was fascinating.  Not just because it filled in some of the background of how the show was commissioned [and how Cutler’s harmonium came to be centre stage] but revealing the depth of Hawk’s admiration of the older man and the inspiration he found in his work.  Another really interesting topic was the difference between writing songs and writing prose: Hamish and Nicola agreed the two used completely different sets of writing muscles.

And then it was time, reluctantly, to leave the Spiegeltent and trek off into the darkness, still glowing from the warmth of my encounter with two brilliant wordsmiths.

EIBF, Hamish Hawk: Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, vol 0, Spiegeltent, Futures Institute, for more information go to: https://www.edbookfest.co.uk/the-festival/whats-on/hamish-hawk-life-in-a-scotch-sitting-room-vol-0

***** (5 stars)

“Enormous fun!” 

It helps that I’m a huge fan of both the Princess Diaries and the Princess Switch[es – all three films] but even if you knew nothing about any of these, you’d still have a wonderfully uproarious time in this show. 

Many in the sell-out audience are obviously huge fans of Awkward Productions’s shows, and know exactly what to expect – topical references, parodic songs, and extreme audience participation.  [Warning: if you’re a shrinking violet, do not accept an invitation to play a part in the show!  If you don’t mind, or actively love, being the centre of an enthusiastic crowd’s attention, grab the opportunity with both hands…]

Swedonia is a fictional country bearing not a little resemblance to the home of IKEA.  The King has just died, and we are at his funeral.  His widow, politicians, and other notables address us via videoconference links before there is a shocking announcement.  Prince Elian cannot inherit the crown unless he marries before midnight on Midsummer’s Eve, only two weeks away: if he fails to do this, the crown will pass to the neighbouring kingdom of Finlandia.  Elian is, of course, an extremely fit prince, but he can’t find anyone who pleases him.  He doesn’t have to marry a woman <phew!> but he meets many potential partners without a single spark flying between them.

Meanwhile, in New York City, Aaron Butcher, a baker, is still reeling from his break-up with the heartless Jakob while trying to make a success of his father’s bakery.  His bestie and assistant Jenny, a very feisty puppet, has been bombarding the Queen of Swedonia with messages which result in an invitation to go to Swedonia and bake the royal wedding cake.  Aaron’s reluctant to – he’s never left New York – but decides he’ll go when his ex turns up at the shop and namedrops his latest lover. 

After a delightfully convoluted journey, Aaron arrives in Swedonia, where an accidental encounter with Prince Elian does not go well – can you guess what happens next…?

The story is delightfully told by Linus Karp and Joseph Martin, with the help of their ASM, some lovely people on video, and the many willing and enthusiastic audience members who gamely brave the unknown and act out everyone else in the tale.  There are two charming horses, some decidedly dodgy orphans, a giggling priest, a seemingly innocuous doppelgänger, a suggestive sauna scene, a fleeting deer, and much much more.  Special credit must be given to the two volunteers who put their hearts and souls into becoming the bass and keyboard players for BAAB, a group bearing an uncanny resemblance to a Eurovision-winning foursome from some years ago: and to the musician – credited as Leland – who produced their wonderfully derivative medley of songs and the ever-sillier verses of the Swedonian national anthem.

It’s not in the least surprising that the whole performance was greeted with loud and loving laughter, nor that the entire audience rose to its feel to salute the cast for their absolutely fabulous [darling] sell-out show – and roared all the louder to learn that Linus and Joseph tied the knot this morning. 

The show blurb promises that The fit prince would be queer, chaotic, comedic and heartfelt – it was all this and more.  A perfect way to spend a Saturday [or any] afternoon celebrating the joy of being oneself, out, proud, alive, and loving.The fit prince, (who gets switched on the square in the frosty castle the night before (insert public holiday here), Beyond at Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/the-fit-prince-who-gets-switched-on-the-square-in-the-frosty-castle-the-night-before-insert-public-holiday-here

**** (4 stars)

“Acutely Observed”

Once again I’m in a show which wasn’t what I expected, but which was excellent.

Kate Skinner, an American actor, has us laughing from her first entrance – congratulating us for coming to her show, even though we know it’s about a widow.  She’s 70, and one of the things about getting older is that the people around you, whom you love, start dying…. One of these is her husband Ron Mclarty, whose death five years ago she sees as some sort of cosmic prank.  This show is a posthumous love letter to him – whenever she talks about him, her face lights up into a luminous smile.

It’s also a humorous account of her forays into the world of online dating, begun after she realised she was beginning to see a visiting plumber as more than a workman…  At first, she regarded this as therapy, mere window shopping – but then began to wonder if she could, would, should take it further.  Her best friend, her ‘dating doula’, outlined the steps she should follow – contact, online conversation, coffee or a drink in a neutral space.

Being Kate, she didn’t necessarily do things in the correct order.  And here followed some potentially hilarious but also depressingly familiar stories about encounters with people who weren’t particularly bothered about providing accurate descriptions of themselves, especially where age and height were concerned.  “The attack of the incoming kiss” and the “rotating tongue kiss” were regular features of these encounters, all described with a wealth of acutely-observed and memorable detail and delightfully edgy New York humour.

Along the way, Kate learned much about herself, and it was interesting to see her development from critical observer [as if taking part in a scientific experiment], to someone who began to see her dates’ point of view – maybe they’d not kissed anyone in a very long time?  Maybe the mind-numbingly boring one-sided conversations were because Kate was the first person who’d ever listened?

Kate’s use of language is delightful and evocative: it’s easy to laugh with her, remembering all too clearly hesitantly dipping one’s own toe in the dating pool.  Running through the show are loving remembrances of Ron, increasingly poignant as she loses him to dementia.  With all these memories, is it surprising that she’s happy to walk round the edge of the dating pool, but can’t bring herself to plunge in.

She’s very engaging, a pleasure to watch, her expressive face and body moving easily from joy to sorrow and all points in between.  I resonate strongly with her experiences of trying to engage in conversation with gatherings where most people are in couples and simply can’t cope with a woman on her own – “who knew there were so many ways to disappear?”.  Where I part company with her is that a very long time ago now I was on my own after a lifetime of being unhappy while coupled up.  I decided after some fruitless forays into the world of ‘meeting people’ that I wasn’t going to waste any more time on this, but would instead concentrate on enjoying my own life – if someone came along, fine: if they didn’t, then at least I’d had a life I enjoyed!

Gentle reader, no-one ever came along.  But I’ve had an absolutely brilliant life “on my own” – doing things I enjoy, having good friends, but also being really comfortable with my own company.  A love like Kate and Ron’s never came my way, and part of me envies her.  Another part is glad that she’s arrived at a point in her life where she can celebrate what a gift she had, and celebrate her single life rather than seeing it as a trap from which she’s desperate to escape.

An excellent, thought-provoking, and very funny show which her audience really loved.

Help I’m trapped in a one-woman show, 10 Dome at Pleasance Dome (Venue 23), for more information go to: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/help-i-m-trapped-in-a-one-woman-show