Fringe Reflection

Posted by Luke Jones

Fringe Reflection

I had two hours to kill. I was waiting at Pleasance Court, wondering what to do with my precious two hour break between shows. I saw, lingering, just over the roof of the Court, Arthur’s Seat. I scaled down the side of the city, working my way through council estates and flash new buildings. I then stood at the bottom, and looked up. The sun was crisp and golden. Towering before me was a great cliff, a great earth mass created by the tectonic movements of the planet. Beyond Arthur’s Seat lay the North Sea, with Scandinavia stood on the other side. This only made me realise that Edinburgh stands on the very edges of this country; a beautiful and proud city. I sat there briefly, taking it all in. Never, I think, have I been in such a hustling and cosmopolitan city, with such rich history, that stands so close to the edge. Just as the shows I was seeing were challenging and questioning me, the city itself made me think.


Once again, I found myself with a few hours to kill before my next show. And once again I found myself in Pleasance Court, stood in the crisp sunlight. The busy schedule of shows and early morning meetings had drained my energy, so I lay up against a tree and closed my eyes for 15 minutes. I was woken up by an angelic 3 year old girl, with curly pre-Raphaelite hair. She was grinning from ear to ear. I opened my bag, pulled out an orange, and we sat their sharing it segment by segment. She looked amazed, in the way only children can, at the flavour of this orange. Her older brother then ran over to us brandishing a long balloon. He passed me the balloon, and naturally I used it as an elephant trunk, to which they both found hilarious. Before I knew it, there for 6 kids following me round the tree in circles as I pretended I was the last African elephant and they were chasing me. All of a sudden, I realised 45 minutes had passed and I had a show to go to. I thought to myself, what a glorious way to spend an hour in Pleasance Courtyard under the watchful eye of Arthur’s Seat.


Writers