Despite having lived in London for most of my life – and being a huge fan of dancing and drinking in the street – I’ve never been to Notting Hill carnival. Instead, for the past seven years, I’ve spent August in Edinburgh, either performing or working at the fringe. Admittedly, last year was my first “fallow” year – a time for the farm (my body) to recover – but I still visited for 10 days at the end, unable to accept the fear of missing out of unjust reviews and posters of comedians scratching their heads.
The first year I visited, I lived in a flat with 20 other students. At some point during the month, a couple of people moved out, so I got a cupboard all to myself. It was heavenly. I had always wanted to do comedy, but didn’t know where to start – all I knew was that Edinburgh was where it happened. So I applied for a job giving out flyers for an improv group, and after an hour of not giving out any, I politely resigned.
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