I had never been to a comedy club before so when I realised there was one just around the corner from where we’re staying and that there would be four comedians trying out some stand up tonight while Mirinda was off having dinner with some important people, I just had to book myself a ticket. So I did. Last night. And I was really looking forward to it. Though the day held a lot more pleasures before hitting the funny bone.
Victoria Crowe is an artist who has become synonymous with Scottish landscape painting. She is not, however, Scottish. She was born in Kingston on Thames but, aged 23 was asked to teach in Edinburgh. She moved and fell in love with Scotland. And I saw an exhibition of her work this morning.
50 Years of Painting shows Ms Crowe’s work starting from her early days, through to now. The exhibition is neatly divided over three floors at the City Arts Centre, Edinburgh and, for me, shows her development beautifully. Most amazing is how her newer landscapes have changed with her life experiences and travels while retaining the same essence of years ago.
The Arts Centre was my third stop this morning. My first was in order to buy Mirinda a new brush because, in her usual manner, she didn’t bring one with her. This is surprising given she actually has at least 300 of them at home purchased all over the world after she discovers she has forgotten to pack one.
Speaking of Mirinda, I left her at the beginning of a possibly three hour Skype meeting for work. I snuck off, leaving her to it.
My second stop was for a coffee at Waverley Station because I was a bit early for the opening of the centre.
The exhibition was excellent and very interesting given she’s still alive and painting. I mean interesting for me because most of the exhibitions I visit are retrospectives of dead artists. Probably interesting for her too given she’s not dead.
I was going to grab a coffee in the Arts Centre cafe but it was full to overflowing so I headed up towards the Royal Mile where I debated whether to head straight down to the Museum of Edinburgh or head up towards the Ensign Ewart for the usual pilgrimage. The Ensign won given it was most definitely beer o’clock.
The woman in the photo above looks like it might be Mirinda but it isn’t. As I have already said, Mirinda was in a meeting back at the apartment. The woman in the photograph just managed to effectively photobomb and resemble my wife at the same time. Curious.
I settled down with a lovely pint of IPA then, convinced by a couple who followed me in, I indulged in an early lunch of charcuterie made up of mostly local ingredients. This made me feel good on a number of levels. Of course I sent Nicktor a message saying how much I was missing him.
Having sustained myself, I headed out and down towards the Museum of Edinburgh.
While I’ve been to many sights and sites in Edinburgh, this particular local museum has managed to escape me. It’s very much a museum of the city and is very similar to the one in Guildford. Not in content, obviously, but in scale and scope.
The collection is displayed higgledy piggley through the many rooms and up and down stairs of Huntly House. It’s a fascinating journey through Edinburgh young and old. It was a bit sad that the New Town section was closed but the rest was still good.
There was a flourishing ceramics industry in Edinburgh so, to celebrate, there’s an awful lot of ceramics on display. And glass. And silver.
Probably my favourite bit was the display of dead bodies discovered after a cemetery was dug up somewhere in Edinburgh. They assumed the bodies would date to when a particular church was originally dedicated along with the churchyard to go with it. However, after carbon dating, it was found that some of the bodies were from an earlier period, predating the church. Most curious.
Eventually I made my slow way back to the apartment with a short stop at Starbucks where for the first time, I had a latte looking at a castle through the window. The view was a bit different to the Lion and Lamb Yard in Farnham.
From here it was but a short stroll back to an empty apartment. Mirinda had gone for a walk and for some lunch timed perfectly to coincide with the sudden downpour that the weather bureau failed to predict. She bought an umbrella.
Finally the day held the great treat I was really looking forward to: The comedy club.
After Mirinda left for her dinner I gradually got ready (I changed from shorts to jeans) then headed up and around the corner into Rose Street. I then walked downstairs to the club. I was the first one there so I walked up to the bar and bought a drink. I had the choice of seats so I chose carefully.
I mean one doesn’t want to be in the front row but, equally, being in the back isn’t that good. I chose a seat at a table about halfway in and close to the exit in case it was too dire even for me.
As I sat and sipped, a couple of women were shown in and they sat at a table the other side of the room and slightly closer to the front. We three waited. And we waited. No one else came. Eventually the barman came and told me the show had been cancelled through lack of interest. The woman at the door apologised many, many times as she paid me back for my ticket. It was all a bit of a damp squib.
So I returned to the damp streets and decided to sit in a pub, drink a beer and watch the first half of Russia v Scotland in the Euro playoffs. Russia looked like winning though it was 0-0 at halftime when I left. It was not exciting enough to stay for the second half.
I returned to the apartment and watched some Netflix and waited for Mirinda to come home. So, basically, although I have BEEN to a comedy club I’ve yet to see any comedy in one.