A girl stands dressed in a black dress and black brogues staring sternly at the audience. The stage is dark. The only light is on her. Suddenly she smiles.

She counts the number of pieces of brick on the stage. There is a stack of bricks and some pieces to her right. She counts the number of latecomers to the show (one). She counts the number of ladies in the audience and gives up after ten (there are many more). She counts the number of French people in the audience and miraculously concludes that there is only one - her.

She picks up two pieces of brick and holds them with her arms stretched out, one in each hand. She counts and tells the audience to tell her when to stop. Someone compassionate (I wonder if it's the director who showed us in) tells her to stop when she gets to four. She puts the bricks down.

She dances a bit. It's not tap but that's the closest description that I know. She sort of stamps her feet in a variety of compelling rhythms. She takes a mallet and she smashes some of the bricks.

She counts a variety of other things including the number of her unborn children (three). She does this in both English and French. (Maybe she somehow knows she is the only French person in the room.) She says the names of my unborn children are unknown even by God. She says the names of various other things are unknown even by God. She says this in both English and French.

She dances a bit. She smashes some more bricks. She screams into a nearby microphone. She sweeps the bricks into a large box attached to one side of the stage. The stage is square and raised and on two sides of it (the audience sides as it's diagonally placed) are many large boxes jutting out from the stage. An extension of it. One contains gravel. One seems to contain rubble. (And then more rubble when she puts the bricks into it.)

We're half an hour in now. This is all accompanied by live music that is sometimes guitar, drums, electronic or all of the above. And it's beautifully lit.

She climbs into one of the large boxes which is mostly filled with water. She lies in the water and sings (beautifully, I might add) into another conveniently placed microphone. Then she clambers out and gets into another box that seems to contain sand and wriggles around so it covers her.

Then she starts lifting up pieces of wood on the stage and re-organising them. Sh stacks a bunch of planks so they conceal one of two stacks of lights placed to the left (her left) of the stage. She lifts some more boards and they are mirrored on the reverse and she stacks them, mirrors towards the audience.

She dances a bit more.

The lights go out.

Blowing everything I've seen so far out of the water for sheer audacious nuts-ness and brilliance is Seagulls. I loved this show so much, I wished it was mine. The venue is far and away the hero but clearly that was entirely down to the brilliant imagination of whomsoever is behind it. I would urge you to rush and see it but I think it's sold out. Do try, by whatever means you can find, to lay your hands on a ticket if you don't have one already. 

This guy warms your heart amidst glorious ridiculousness. My review is yet to be published for those that hang on my valuable words (?!). 

One Step BeforeThe Fall was completely and utterly glorious, to the point where I ran out of this show and bought a ticket for their companion show, The Narrator. Cari, if you're reading this and can possibly cheat your way out of work for 5pm on Thursday - their very last show - go go go. It's stunning. 

I thought this was a bit daft but it's very well done and no doubt very meaningful so who's to argue with that?

Fighting for favourite show so far this #edfringe are:

Elle Dubois' No Show at Summerhall.

The beautiful Jess and Joe Forever at the Traverse.

Old Stock, A Refugee Love Story at the Canada Hub of Sumemrhall is boisterous and beautifully music-ed and delightful.

There's this crazy thing which is sold out unless you're lucky on the night and get an unclaimed comp.

And then there's The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk.

Tough competition.

The more I think about this, the more I loved it.

 

I'm featured in an instagram ad! Does that mean I've made it as a reviewer?! 

In the rest of life (not that the rest of life matters all that much at this precise moment in time), I've been seeing some stuff. And a lot of it has been good.

How To Act is interesting.

The Sky Is Safe is excellent.

And Seance is spooky as they come.

Yeah, so Susan didn't spoil me so much. But she liked the actors and that is The Most Important thing.

Now you're spoiling me.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

Yeah, so I'm feeling a bit sick.

Yes, I agree. Making props on the bus on the way to work on the opening night of the show is a new low. Try harder next time, cmf.

That awful thing happened yesterday. The thing that I can barely countenance at this time of year.

A work colleague got on my bus to work at the same time as me. He was at my bus stop. I ran up the stairs when I clambered on. He followed! I wanted to shriek "you don't understand! I don't have time for pleasantries!" But thank goodness, I managed to hold my tongue. 

In fact, work colleague is unjust. I might even go so far as to say friend. (So how unjust that I see him and fill instantly with irritation. How dare he be at "my" bus stop?!) But it's a sad tribute to my tunnel vision mind right now that the thought of spending twenty minutes not frantically pouring over my to do list was intolerable. 

I won't know what to do with myself in a week and a half.