Being at the festival from Sunday through to Friday can be full on, so we split the time by taking a day trip to somewhere where I’m less likely to be covered in flyers. In the first year I went to Leith, via the gorgeous Dean Village. Last year we took a train to Berwick-upon-Tweed and endured a storm and rain shower that reminded us of the glories of British summer holidays. This year we went to North Berwick, a 40 minute train journey away. It’s home to the Scottish Sealife Centre as well as the chance to take boats out to Bass Rock, a volcanic rock home to a large flock of gannets. The beach at North Berwick is wonderful, a soothing counterpoint to the relentless nature of the festival. Photos of the day are at https://www.flickr.com/photos/mrbutler

Back in the city, we went to see Annie McGrath’s Ambivert. I had previously seen McGrath as part of sketch comedy duo Twins, who performed a great show in 2015 and a luke-warm show in 2016. In 2017, McGrath is not quite firing on all cylinders, perhaps because the audience is just twelve strong; to put this in context, it’s the smallest fringe audience I’ve ever been part of. Her show has a fundamental flaw to it, which is that she feels her generation has it all really good and the best they can complain about is a lack of wifi. If she’s on about the generation who suffer zero hours contracts, student debt, insecure housing and high levels of anxiety and depression, and who will have to go through the nonsense that is Brexit… if she’s on about those, then she’s way out of touch with reality. She plays the posh girl well, but when she plays ignorant, too, the show just can’t work. Another theme is that she is an ambivert , which is neither an extrovert or an introvert. In a sense, she’s right down the middle, which is exactly where this show lies.

Later on, we go from an empty attic to a bustling basement to see Mae Martin’s Dope, which is a superb hour of deeply intimate and hilarious insights into Mae’s life, all going back to a childhood that sounds both loving and unconventional. Martin delivers a show rich in visual imagery, we learn that she was obsessed by Bette Midler as a kid and discover that not only did Martin wear an outfit that makes her sound like a weird Victorian child – all waistcoats and stiff shirts – but she also spent much of her youth sneaking into stand up shows and slowly developing obsessions about the comedians she’s watching. When told she was a “groupie”, she wonders if groupie means peer. Martin’s delivery is so joyful and positive that it’s a surprise when the show starts to venture into the territory of addiction. Addiction comes in many forms, from being addicted to an idea, to people, to substances. Martin confronts all of this brilliantly, and in the process I’m sure she will have reminded many of the audience of their own childhood obsessions. It’s remarkable this show is on as part of the free fringe, but I would expect those days are soon to be over.

North Berwick