The Day after The Fringe

I'm not the type of person that likes to draw too much attention to myself, so I was a little alarmed when the street performer started pointing in my direction. We were inconspiciously (or so I thought) seated on the hard cobblestones, in a square off the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, watching a group of juggling comedians entertain the crowd. It was the day after The Fringe closed, but it seemed like most of the acts from the festival had set up impromptu roadside skits to pay for their bar tabs and transport home.

I'm not sure whether I was relieved or horrified when a silver painted man enticed my daughter to ride pillon on a pretend, kazoo powered motorcycle in front of several hundred laughing onlookers - oh well, at least it wasn't me. The finale of the show involved a mono-cycling juggler, escape artist and Scottish strongman that lay on a bed of nails as a mime artist cracked a concrete block over his torso.

From where we were seated I could see all the way up his kilt - so did my daughter, before I could cover her eyes. I think she saw more of Edinburgh than she bargained on...