The View from Glasgow
Anticipation, like love or hunger, has a curious effect on the stomach. Love ties it in knots, and hunger shakes it, anticipation tickles it with a feather duster. As an improviser returning to Edinburgh, there is so much to look forward to that the tickling stops being cute and funny, and starts being annoying.
That there are shows to do would go without saying if I hadn’t mentioned it. The Imps perform every week during Oxford term times, but Edinburgh provides a subtly different challenge. We do shows every day. And the audiences are different; fewer students and more of everyone else. An Edinburgh audience has chosen a show over hundreds of others. They are knowledgeable and expectant. The buzz of making them laugh is lovely. Doing it every day is tremendous. My tummy is tingling at the thought.
I am also excited for living in the Imps’ flat again. I reckon that it is meant to sleep about half as many people as sleep in it. The ‘Party Room’ upstairs sleeps six at least. Sometimes beds are shared. It is only natural to have feelings of anticipation as to whom one might be sleeping with. Completely platonically, of course.
I’m excited for the Edinburgh vibe. I’m excited for the bustling bars, the crowded venues, the queues to get the best seats in the big ticket shows. For the burger van outside the Gilded Balloon, for the Black Medicine coffee after the shows, for the parties and clubs, for the new Imps’ folklore to be created, for the inevitable romances in the flat – the infamous ‘Impcest’.
I’m in Glasgow, only a short train ride away. But I can’t wait. Stop tickling me, Auntie Cipation, I want to start.
Jamie
(the skinny Scottish one)