We’re now into the thirteenth day of the Fringe, and the cracks are beginning to show. Not in the festival itself, you understand, it’s going super well, rather in the staff.  We’re holding it together though, each of us in our own special way.  Jenny (Programme Director) was the first to make public her coping mechanism, returning laden with goods from the health food shop before the festival even began. At the time I thought this an unescessary and ill-founded act, but the joke’s on me as she’s still bounding around full of echinacea looking amazing whereas I’m sitting at a desk littered with Diet Coke bottles and empty pick’n'mix bags looking utterly horrifying.  Some Marketing Assistants have tried it all it seems (Jenny’s echinacea is on his desk, along with an empty Subway bag, a box of Ciara’s Milk Tray and something alarmingly called ‘Red Kooga’ ginseng), and are still passed out on a bean bag under their desks.  I’d judge, but it’ll probably be me tomorrow.  Many have turned to coffee, and even more, worryingly, to Buckfast.

Luckily, the Fringe is turning out to be well worth the toll it’s taking on our appearances, our alcohol consumption levels and our sanity.  A personal highlight was Tuesday night, making sandwiches (in retrospect really, really bad sandwiches) and being informed that the very gay, very male star of the show ‘used to look at lot like me when he worked the sex lines’.  All part of the audience experince at Susan and Darren.  So yes, we may be tired, we may be run-down, we may even be drunk, but we’re excited. Bring on the last weekend!