Barbershopera’s Pete Sorel-Cameron On The Edinburgh Festive Ill

Like a fool, I used to claim I never got ill. And like the foolish friend of mine who arrived on the beach one day proclaiming ‘I never get sunburnt’, I have been proved quite painfully wrong. I now say I only get ill in August. He now says ‘I once got sunburnt.’
In the past, I have regarded my immune system as something of a Trojan; faithfully toiling away, dealing with all the germs London can throw at me (which, let me assure you, is quite a lot), and hardly making a fuss. But, having been at the festival for the last two years running, I now find a worrying trend taking hold. Come the middle of the month – as the memory of the last day off starts to fade – the illness sets in.

Now, if I didn’t have to perform an a capella musical, complete with complex dance moves and a whole load of jumping about every day, I’m sure you might call this illness a cold, but I have given myself performer’s license and upgraded it to a pox. And I have noticed that a lot of my fellow performers are being struck down with it.

I realise the festival is nearly over now, so any tips are pretty much useless, but I thought I could share my efforts with the blog reading community, perhaps in an effort to start a debate about how best to deal with the Fringe Pox.
I have been on a course of the highly recommended and reassuringly expensive Manuka honey. It costs upwards of £10 a jar, which if nothing else allows you to feel like your cold cure is keeping up with Edinburgh spirit of spending money you are barely earning. I have gargled with Lemsip. Delicious, but painful if attempted too soon after boiling the kettle. And I have refrained from going out and getting drunk every night in a noisy bar. Basically, in order to cure my ailment, I have done exactly what my mother suggested; I have acted like a responsible adult.

Actually, having said all that, I am now reminded that I did, in fact, get ill. So instead, my advice would be to go out till the wee small hours every night, have a few drinks, scream at people in Brooke’s Bar and eat KFC all August. Enjoy yourself, because no amount of power smoothies can save you from the pox.

Cheerio.