The mid-point of the fringe has arrived, and unlike many of my fellow performers the mid-point is in fact my end-point.  I must return to my grown-up job tomorrow, having used all my annual leave to come to the fringe for just eleven days.

But what an eleven days it has been!  The sadness and regret I feel as I leave, a feeling akin to leaving behind the love of your life or abandoning the place you feel home, is a testament to the fun and fellowship I've had while I've been here.  As a returning 'old imp', I had worries and anxieties - in addition to those Jamie mentioned earlier - that these new young whippersnappers would turn their noses up at my antiquated Improv ways or reject me due to my advancing years.  Not so.  Not so the imps.  A warmer, friendlier and lovelier group of people I could not have wished to experience the fringe with.  United by a common love of being silly on stage, having fun off stage and a song about a snowball (ask one of them to sing it to you), the imps welcome anyone who shares their passions.  I have met people this week who I feel like I've known all my life, and who I very much hope will be my friends in years to come.

To me, this is one of the many things that makes the Imps special: genuine camaraderie.  The fun and fondness that we have with and for each other spills out onto the stage, and is also what makes our shows special.  The audience leave feeling like they've had a right old giggle with a bunch of friends, and that they've shared something lovely and heart-warming.

That's how I feel, leaving Edinburgh now.  Tired, yes, and a little fragile, sure.  Looking forward to being back in my own bed rather than on an air bed optimistically shoved in between two other beds in a room meant for one person (and a small one at that), perhaps.  But mostly I am glad to have had a lovely time with friendly people, and I am sorry to leave my comedy family behind.

Becca (the old brunette who just can't let go) x