Thursday 26 August 2010

Fringe shows and teenagers - by Dea Birkett

My teenager has adopted a hotel lobby. For the cost of a cappuccino, she sits in the soft cushioned comfort of the Radisson on the Royal Mile, just a few steps away from our hostel, perusing the Fringe programme.

The Radisson is also a venue. Once, Fringe venues were leaky church halls down in the Leith docks. Now they’re unused business conference rooms if five star hotels in the centre of town. Whether that says more about the Fringe or the state of the hospitality economy, I’m not sure. But it means there’s a little more comfort for a Fringe goer these days, as the venue is likely to be warmer and the seats softer.

For a teenager to be interested in a play it has to be about themselves. So my seventeen year old opted for Clinical Lies, which isn’t only about a teenager but written by and performed by one, 19-year-old Eva O’Connor. Clinical Lies was promoted as, ‘an emotionally charged exploration of the turmoil of youth. A fragile 19-year-old girl offers a frank, witty and harrowing insight into teenage life, as she battles against her mother and her circumstances.’ I decided my own battling teenager could go and see that one on her own. Predictably, she loved it. She’s even reviewing it on her own blog - teentheatre.livejournal.com.

I failed miserably to find a show we could enjoy together. I tried Shakespeare’ Mothers. Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know, but that only bored both of us. I tried My Hamlet, a one-woman show about a Danish prince with puppets. That left us totally confused. So I abandoned her to go to her own stuff, while I saunter off with the nine-year-old twins.

I wonder - is leaving her to see shows on her own being a negligent mother, like letting her sit all night before an unmonitored computer screen? Should I be paraded as an example of poor parenting for allowing her to be exposed to dramatic material, the content of which is a complete mystery to me? I don’t think so. But what’s so different about drama? Why do I allow her see and hear (the language is uniformly shocking) things on stage I never would on the web?

It’s odd, because I could easily stop her seeing shows when monitoring her internet use is far trickier. But I don’t want to censor her Fringe viewing. I think it’s fantastic for her to witness terrible tragedies and traumas on stage. Meanwhile, I’ll go to see James Campbell’s Comedy and Songs for Kids (‘suitable for age 6 plus’) with the twins.

www.edfringe.com

Sunday 22 August 2010

Not educational just plain old family fun! - by Dea Birkett

Prince of Cringe at the Gilded Balloon was gross, absolutely gross. The prince sucked a long thin balloon up his nostril and pulled it out through his mouth. He walked on 48 raw eggs, smashing htem between his toes. He banged a nail through is nose. I can’t recommend it highly enough, especially for nine-year-old boys like mine.

And our day just went from disgusting to very disgusting. After Prince of Cringe we saw The List Operators for Kids in the Pleasance Courtyard. I’m a list writing addict. I can barely move in the morning until I’ve written a list of the things I have to do for that day. So I thought this show would be for me as well as the nine-year-old twins. I was right. Double act Matt Kelly and Richard Higgins began by throwing pooey knickers into the audience. They constructed the world’s ultimate sandwich – slabberings of ketchup, jam, honey, crisps, mustard, marmite, and a gherkin. Then they ate it. We threw aliens made out of dishtowels at the Matt and Richard for no reason whatsoever. In return they vomited green paint over us. There was more farting than after an auntie’s tea. There’s nothing like a fake fart to get kids giggling uncontrollably, well mine at least.

It was the best time we’ve had together for ages because, unlike every other family activity now offered including on the Fringe, it wasn’t remotely educational. It didn’t try to turn me into a quasi-teacher explaining things to my kids every two seconds in soft mummyish whisperings. We didn’t discover how gravity works or beef up on the effects of global warning, not even in an amusing way. I didn’t come out with anything new except a face that ached from laughing so much. We had a great afternoon. We learnt absolutely nothing. We just had fun.

http://www.gildedballoon.co.uk/
http://www.pleasance.co.uk/
http://www.edfringe.com/

Thursday 19 August 2010

Time out for a family at the fringe

I’ve got it wrong again. One of my nine year olds has pointed out to me that there are over 300, not over 200 venues at the Fringe. She’s right. Every corner shop, every hotel lobby, every backstreet bar has been occupied by a theatre troupe. This is, of course, part of the Fringe’s remarkable energy. But it’s also exhausting when you’re traipsing around with kids. There’s not quiet space to retreat to and calm down. And although the Smart City Hostel where we’re staying is fab, it’s not exactly relaxing to go back to our room and bend over double on the bunk bed, attempting to chill out. Anyway, the hostel is also a venue from late morning til well past midnight and heaving with wannabe actors and performers. So we are bombarded with innovation and experimentation wherever we go.

To escape it, you have to flee from the town centre. You don’t have to go far. We only took a short bus ride out to the Dean Gallery (part of National Galleries of Scotland) and sat in the wonderfully sedate cafĂ©, supping on homemade vegetable and barley soup. We then wandered into their surrealism exhibition – Another World – wandering among the whacky paintings and objects, supping on the near silence in the galleries. The kids were certainly quieter and calmer. Refuelled and refreshed, we took the bus back up to the Royal Mile and a show.

I’ve mentioned the power of the poster before, plastered all over town. Now the nine-year-old twins have succumbed to the force of the flyer given out on every street. They collect them like Trump cards; we’ve got piles back in our room. I suppose I should be grateful as they’re free souvenirs and I don’t have to buy the twins some dreadful tartan knickknack to take home. But then they insist they go to shows in their flyer collection. Which is how we ended up standing in a queue for Prince of Cringe. I’ll let you know if the promise of the flyer proves true.

http://www.nationalgalleries.org/
http://www.smartcityhostels.com/
http://www.edfringe.com/

Tuesday 17 August 2010

Edinburgh Fringe - the next chapter - by Dea Birkett

So we went to see Jungle Book. The Next Chapter this morning. We were photographed going in, pretending to be an animal of our own choice. Nine-year-old River doesn’t really go for that kind of interactive stuff, so just grimaced. His twin sister Savanna was some species that roared – it’s unclear which. Then our images were projected on to a screen throughout the performance. Even River’s, who simply looked unhappy.

Only yesterday I was saying what a good idea it is to have a play with a familiar name, Jungle Book being a good example. Now I’m not so sure. It’s a big title to live up to. Some of the characters in the Next Chapter were familiar, but all the songs were new. There wasn’t a single tune we could hum along to. ‘It’s nothing like Jungle Book,’ moaned Savanna. Better for a child to have no expectations at all than to have expectations dashed.

But Savanna had a good idea for a cost free family activity at the Fringe. A venue trail. Each Fringe venue – over 200 of them - has a number displayed in a big banner on the outside of the building, whether it’s a highbrow theatre or a scuzzy bar. Savanna and her twin brother River obsessively clock each venue they pass, ticking them off. ‘I’ve seen 83, 52, 132 and 6 already today!’ cheered River before lunch. I reward the one who spots the most venues before supper with a pound, making it the cheapest show we’ve done. I think Savanna should suggest the idea to the Fringe for next year. They could even publish a family friendly venue trail with stickers.

While the twins and I were pretending to be animals, the teenager wandered off to her own familiar territory. She saw Farm Boy at the Assembly Rooms, mainly because it was promoted as the Michael Morpurgo’s sequel to War Horse, a play she’s already seen twice. She, too, had expectations dashed. How can you live up to War Horse? It was fine but not fabulous.

And tomorrow we’re going to see Prince of Cringe, a title none of us have ever heard of.

www.edfringe.com

Monday 16 August 2010

Fairytales and the Fringe - by Dea Birkett

Never underestimate the power of the poster. We’re walking along the heavily fly posted Edinburgh streets, and the nine-year-old twins are reading them all out loud, from the rudest burlesque to plays about bunny rabbits. One called Cinderella catches Savanna’s attention.
‘I want to go and see that!’ she says.
‘But we’ve already seen Cinderella,’ moans her twin brother.
‘But I like Cinderella,’ she says,
‘But I don’t want to see it again,’ he replies.
‘There are different versions,’ she moans. The conversation continues …

Now here’s a conundrum. If I were an obscure theatre group putting on a play for kids at the Fringe, I’d give it a title every child recognises. Cinderella. Oliver Twist. Something that sounds like a Roald Dahl title even if it isn’t. That way, any child will want to go and see it. We’re booked in for the Jungle Book. The Next Chapter tomorrow, just because it’s got the words ‘Jungle Book’ in big letters on the posters. You could call in poster pester power. And I succumbed.

But should I? Perhaps I should be introducing the kids to stories and ideas they haven’t come across before. If I can’t do that at the Edinburgh Fringe, where can I do it? But I’m also a lazy mum. I don’t want to have two whinging kids sitting next to me throughout a performance. I want to space out while they watch. So it’s Jungle Book in the morning.

And we went to see Hood this afternoon – because it’s about Little Red Riding Hood. But the great thing about the Fringe is even if the title is familiar, the content certainly won’t be. This production had a lot of singing and dancing, but no real script. I couldn’t really make it out, but the twins did. So I felt as if I’d ticked all the boxes – it was a story they knew, in a form that was new to them.

I wonder what Jungle Book will do tomorrow.

www.edfringe.com


Photograph by Kenny Mathieson and Hood production by Peculius Stage

The Edinburgh Fringe - Day 1 - by Dea Birkett and family

Things have not gone to plan. That’s the first thing you learn about family holidays. I’d booked our accommodation in the fab Smart City Hostel, which has family rooms only yards off the Royal Mile, right in the centre of the Edinburgh Fringe action. I’d written a schedule of shows we wanted to see and places we wanted to visit. And then, only moments after we arrived by our bunk beds close to midnight, my eldest began to throw up. Kids. They ruin schedules. Particularly on holiday. In our case, very often on holiday. Plans and young people just don’t go together. I won’t waste the week beforehand scheduling again.

We (or rather I, as like most women I’m the scheduler in the family) had to reschedule. There was no breakfast show this morning, having been up half the night – later than even the latest fringe hardliners. Of course, my teenager is fine now, having a robust young body. It’s only me who’s a wreck.

So we started our first day gently at the very best place to start any Edinburgh visit - the Camera Obscura - a wonderful piece of Victorian technology that still captivates kids. [Unfortunately it doesn't have family tickets - see Kids in Museums family ticket watch ] From the top, a live image of the city lay on a round table before us. We touched passers by storeys below, lifting them off the table as if we were all-powerful giants and they were Lilliputians. We could pinpoint our hostel and navigate the old and new towns, getting to know them before wandering around the over one hundred fringe venues. We had bird’s eye previews of what was on offer, as we looked down on the theatre companies performing extracts from their performances in the streets. We could decide what to see from the vantage point of the Camera Obscura. I took out my schedule and began to scribble.

We stayed there all this morning. I suppose, at some point soon, we must see a show.


Further information
Edinburgh Fringe
Smart City Hostels
Camera Obscura

Thursday 12 August 2010

On Safari in Hertfordshire - by Dea Birkett

Who needs to go on safari? There’s lots of controversy over taking kids to malarial zones. So this week we had our encounters with lions, tigers and lemurs in deepest Hertfordshire, at Paradise Wildlife Park, which specialises in allowing you get as close as you safely can to a wild beast.

The first cage we walked into was awash with offspring. I’ve always thought my family was large, but not as large as Edwina and Ringo’s. They’ve got nine kids, and I can’t tell the difference between them although their keeper Steve, who was also in the compound with us, could. They’re all lemurs, with long ringed tails and big orange eyes. And, like very good children and unlike my own, they just eat loads of fruit, especially apples. I know, because that’s what we fed them at Paradise Park, sitting next to them on tree trunk seats as if invited for tea. My nine year old decided to have a staring competition with Ringo. He didn’t win. Lemurs don’t blink.

We also didn’t have a tiger for tea, but did have tea with a white tiger called Narnia, feeding her meat from our fingers. We held a Burmese python called Colonel Custard whose diet was one rat a week. We stroked a bearded dragon and baby meerkats. The meerkats’ status on the animal kingdom has been considerably enhanced amongst kids by their in appearance in a TV ad for car insurance. I’m not sure that’s what the advertising executives intended.

Like all south of England families, we’ve also been to Woburn Safari Park and stared at animals through our car windscreen. Ironically, that’s far closer to the African safari experience than Paradise Park. If you drive in a jeep through the bush, you need a good pair of binoculars to spot a lion. And feeding one is not an option, at least not an advisable one for the kids.

So if your kids want to stroke a lion’s mane, don’t take them to South Africa. Go to the South of England. Family travel is becoming more and more about the experience rather than the place. Now, we can do most things, almost anywhere.

A package including a one night stay in a family room at the five star Marriott Hanbury Manor Hotel & Country Club and a family entrance ticket go Paradise Wildlife Park costs from £218 per family of four at weekends in August and September and is bookable through Superbreak. Animal encounters bookable extras.

Woburn Safari Park