Teenager at the Edinburgh Fringe - by Dea Birkett

Teenagers are so tricksy. There’s plenty of events and activities for kids, and more for grown ups. But ‘kids’ is usually defined as up to 12 years old. And grown ups from 18 onwards, although, as a mother of a 16 year old, that does seem rather optimistic. So what happens to all the 13 to 17 year olds who fall into the chasm between youth and maturity? What are they supposed to do on holiday?

We’ve just faced this at the Edinburgh festivals. There’s some fantastic shows for kids, Lighter Than Air by Circo Ridiculoso particularly recommended (www.circoriduculoso.com). But try suggesting to my 16 year old that she’d enjoy Giraffes Can’t Dance because of the puppets, and she snorts in a way only a teenager can. But when I offer to take her to shows that I’d enjoy, like a political play about the Middle East, she starts getting sniffy all over again, as if she had a permanent head cold. Why would she want to go to that adult rubbish?

I say Thank God we stayed at the Smart City Hostel, where each night similarly nasally challenged teenagers gathered around the pool table in the basement bar, avoiding their parents. ‘Thank God,’ snorted my teenager on spotting the pack. ‘Teenagers! Normal people.’

And my initial worries that she’d spend all day in her bunk bed listening to obscene songs on her iPod while I toured the festival’s cultural highlights was just maternal fretting. The Fringe turned out to be fabulous for a 16 year old, just because there’s so much on offer they’re bound to find something to suit their very particular tastes. My teenager loved The Assassination of Paris Hilton, played entirely in the ladies toilets in the Assembly Rooms and using language she’s unfortunately very familiar with. She’s been wearing her ‘I Killed Paris’ t-shirt with pride ever since.

There’s also plenty of dance, and I’ve found that teenagers enjoy most things with lots of movement in them. At least mine swayed to Me Mobile/Evolution. Once you get over the pretentious title (this is the Edinburgh Fringe, after all), it’s a wonderful piece where a young woman called Claire Cunningham dances on and with her crutches – hundreds of them. She even does Singing in the Rain, replacing Gene Kelly’s twirling umbrella with a spinning crutch.

As far as multi-generational short breaks go, I don’t think there’s much to beat the Fringe. We even took granny.