"With tired minds, tired bodies and tired souls, they turned North, to Scotland."

Well here we are again. It's about a year ago to the day when the world first heard all things Faversham. On the anniversary of his birth, it is with very warm sensations of fuzzy excitement that we peer over the precipice of another Edinburgh Fringe festival. It's exciting for various reasons. We are returned to a city which did as much as anything to shape the nature of the show, being as it was simultaneously super-gothic-o, a splendid testing ground for young comedy-types, and our collective home for the last 5 years.(In Jamie's case the last 26) Faversham was dreamed up in the pubs, cinemas and comic book stores of the Old Town, and even if we had nothing to show for it, it would still be fantastic to be back. The air is different. The colours seem somehow richer. And there are definitely way more toothless people arguing with each other in the middle of the road.
Dave and I arrived from London on Thursday and were immediately thrust into a whirlwind of inactivity. I had cunningly secured for myself a dose of the flu/a cold, and so took to my bed with remarkable gusto. The others, somewhat bereft of leadership without my inspiring presence drifted aimlessly through the weekend. Thankfully by Monday I had displayed the traditional Ker vim and sprang from my death-ish bed to inject vitality and good-natured bonhomie into the project. So after rehearsing yesterday and today, we've reached a point of some satisfaction with the show and now merely look forward with a distinct lack of relish to our 0700hrs technical rehearse-fest tomorrow morning. Weak. Then we've only to go watch other shows, jealously dissect them, drink a lot of fizzy drinks, and pull out all the stops for a rip-roaring start to proceedings on Thursday. I've got a little inkling, it's going to be fun.