If you’re not fast you’re last at festival time - Fiona Duff

At 12.10 last Wednesday lunchtime I was in a queue at the Pleasance Dome to see Tennessee, Rose, the debut play from Edinburgh gal, Clare Cockburn. It’s always difficult when the first piece of theatre you see is brilliant as it does set the bar awfully high in one’s critical eyes. The subject is Tennessee Williams’ sister whose mental health inspired many of his female characters. The acting is stunning and it is directed by Patrick Sandford, a well known gentleman in theatrical circles.

Well, after that I moved about ten paces from the venue door to have a cup of tea before heading straight back in to see… Patrick Sandford. This brave man has written a show in which he performs the roles of both himself as a nine-year-old boy and the teacher who groomed him at that age. With the Scottish Child Abuse Inquiry in full swing this sheds light on how these awful things happen to young people.

Since then I have managed to get along to see quite a few more, and not one of them has been a dud or even similar to anything else I have so far attended. Dark Noon is quite an astonishing show the like of which I have never seen before at the Fringe. Darling Boy was both funny and heartbreaking and Rupert Bevan has the most lovely stage presence.

The next day it was time for a bit of politics from Dennis Trainor Jnr – yes, that ‘Jnr’ is a bit of a giveaway that he’s from across the pond. A really interesting look from inside the presidential campaign in 2016 after which the planet shook it’s head in disbelief that Donald Trump was now the most powerful man in the free world.

Of course, I am writing this at break-neck speed because I looked at my phone when I left In Loyal Company to see an email from a right bossy boots at this august publication wanting to know the whereabouts of my column. I had been discussing with friends what a wonderful performance by David William Bryan (who has written this one man show about his uncle’s experiences of WWll) had given when I had to hot foot it back to my computer.

Of course, trying to go anywhere at any speed in Edinburgh during August is a flipping nightmare. The pavements are full of people dawdling along, or trying to shove a flyer into your hand and the traffic hardly moves. Next year can someone not bring along some drones that can transport us from venue to venue above the crowds, although preferably not in the clouds as I don’t have a very good head for heights. So I shall now have a cup of tea and choose where to go next.