My Biggest Fans

My biggest fans were in the audience for yesterday’s show: Mum and Dad, who’d travelled all the way from north west London to Edinburgh to see their daughter perform silly songs about growing vegetables. This means I was not lying when I told a reporter the other day that my fans follow me all around the country. My parents have been doing their bit to promote the show. Whenever a hapless performer with a hopeful look in their eye hands Dad a flyer, he proceeds to tell them in great detail why they should come and see my show.

However, true to form, my parents had not been in the city for five minutes before they were at the centre of a major controversy over an alleged shard of glass in a piece of cake. Dad was adamant that the foreign body in his fruitcake was a shard of glass. “I tried to cut through it with my knife but couldn’t,” he explained. However, staff at the cafe where this dangerous snack was served maintained it was merely a sliver of almond. Nevertheless the manager wisely decided not charge my parents one penny for the cakes and tea they had consumed. A good result. Well done, Dad.

My mother’s side of the family actually hail from Edinburgh. My ancestors were sea captains, making me a fourth generation fishwife, or something like that. It seems my antecedents were oft to be found strolling alongside the Water of Leith. So in a sense performing at the Fringe is like coming home. How poetic. I have an overwhelming urge to gut a fish but must prepare for today’s show instead.