The Edinburgh Festival Survival Guide

As I’ve told you a million times, I’m not prone to exaggeration. But being in Edinburgh in August really makes you feel as if you’re at the centre of the world. Or at least the worlds of art, comedy, culture, music, dance and theatre.

And I say that as a Glaswegian.

When people talk about the Edinburgh Festival, they’re really talking about … festivals. Insert your own number, I’ve almost lost count.

The Art Festival started yesterday, The Jazz and Blues Festival starts tomorrow, and the multicultural Mela is from 6/8 until 8/8 on Leith Links. There’s even a brand new festival this year (which I’m taking part in): The Edinburgh International Marketing Festival. Oh, there's also the Television Festival, but that's trade only.

But the big four are the International Festival (the ‘proper’ festival), The Fringe (the big one for comedy, music, dance, theatre and kids’ events), the Book Festival and The Military Tattoo (not actually part of the Festival, but the tourists seem to like it).

I’m sure the Edinburgh Festival season generates its own version of Stendhal Syndrome – the panic attacks, breathlessness and hallucinations brought on by too much exposure to art and culture suffered by visitors to Florence. In Edinburgh, it’s brought on by too much comedy, music, and Georgian architecture, weird conversations with famous comics you meet in the Gilded Balloon bar, too many beers and too much deep fried pizza.

So, here’s my Survival Guide – How to Survive the Edinburgh Festival, written by an Edinburgh resident who still works the Festival like a tourist.

1. Plan in advance, but not too much

Book your tickets in advance for any big names, key shows, or your absolute “must-sees”. But don’t fill your days completely. Leave room – and plenty of it – for shows you hear about in bars, venues, or from your taxi driver. Be flexible, ask people for recommendations – and pass them on.

2. Get your bearings.

It’s actually quite simple. The city is centred on Princes Street (The Castle and the National Galleries on one side, shopping on the other). The Mound runs uphill south from Princes Street to the High Street (or Royal Mile) which runs from the Castle to Holyrood Palace. From Princes Street, Hanover Street goes north to George St (Assembly Rooms), Queen St (The Stand Comedy Club) and the New Town. I could tell you all about the New Town, but it would ruin some of my best material. Go up The Mound to the High St for free street shows (also at the side of the National Galleries) and on to The Gilded Balloon and Udderbelly in Bristo Square.

3. Get up early at least once. And stay up late often.

Apparently there are lots of great shows in the morning. They’ll be in the programme then. And there are loads of shows, gigs, events into the wee sma’ hours. Now those, I know about. The best known is Late’n’Live at the Gilded Balloon. It starts at 1am, and runs until 5am. But most venues have something on that runs until at least two or three in the morning. And if you’re all Fringe’d out, don’t worry. Most bars are open until four or five in the morning.

4. See something you’ve never experienced in your life before (and never will again).

It can be tempting just to go for the big ticket acts, or the most popular shows. But the point of Edinburgh is also to see and experience something weird, unusual and perhaps perplexing. If you don’t stagger out of a small theatre space with more people on stage than in the audience, thinking “What the hell was that about?” then you haven’t really ‘done’ Edinburgh.

5. There’s no such thing as bad weather…

…just the wrong clothes. (Billy Connolly). You know that song “Four Seasons in One Day”? Crowded House wrote that during a weekend in Edinburgh. (Actually they didn’t. But once when they played in Edinburgh I was their support act. Honest.) If you don’t like the rain, hang around. It will be sunny in half an hour. Or foggy, or snowing. So carry a mac, bring a jumper, and don’t forget the sun cream.

6. Take a break.

Get away from the culture fest for a couple of hours. Take a walk up Arthur’s Seat, a wander through the Botanic Gardens, or a dander along the beach at Cramond or Portobello. Or head down to North Berwick for “Fringe by the Sea” (10 - 15 August).

7. Get back in there.

If a flyer, or a taster of a show, or a long queue catches your eye, go for it. There’s always a drink close at hand, you can eat later, and sleep when you’re deid. It’s Festival time!

The old ones are the best

I took a trip out to the Falkirk Wheel yesterday - it's only half an hour from my home in Edinburgh, but like most people I tend to do the tourist bit much more when I'm on holiday, rather than visit the fantastic stuff here on my doorstep.

But yesterday, I thought I'd do something different, for two reasons.

Firstly, because I'm a great believer that to encourage your creativity, you should do something you've never done in your life before, every week.

And secondly, my kids have been on holiday for three weeks now, and I thought they should do something that didn't involve Call of Duty, Facebook, or the Disney Channel.

Anyway, it's a fantastic sight, and a fantastic piece of engineering. A boat lift that rotates through 360 degrees (the first and only one in the world), it bridges the chasm between the Forth and Clyde Canal (at sea level) and the Union Canal (35m, or 115 feet, above it).

No locks, no dragging the barges up the hill - just sail the barge in, and the thing turns like a wheel, raising one boat while lowering another. It's also quite, quite beautiful.

You can watch it here: Falkirk Wheel (and ignore the daft eejit who comments "It's fraud! It takes nearly five minutes").

Anyway, what's that got to do with "The old ones are the best"?

Well, think about it. One of these barges must weigh several tons. Or tonnes, if you prefer. And then they fill them with people.

So what happens when there's a barge on only one of the Wheel's 'arms'? Doesn't the weight imbalance cause a problem - if not a disaster?

The solution to this 21st century problem was over 2300 years old: The Archimedes Principle.

The volume of water displaced by the barge is equal to the volume of the barge itself, so by applying the principle, and making sure the weights are equal, it doesn't matter if the space is filled with water, or filled with barge and people.

I wish I'd been in the room when that happened. "So, any ideas on how we might solve this?".

"Hang on, what about that guy that went for a bath and then ran down the street naked, shouting "Eureka"? Wasn't that a similar problem?"

I love it - getting an idea not from what's going on around you, but from another time, another environment, or another culture.

Try it - it might just work.

Getting it done - lessons from Geldof and Kennedy

You'll have noticed that this week is twenty-five years since the Live Aid concert, "The day music changed the world".

The BBC celebrated the anniversary by broadcasting two great programmes which are, as I write, available to watch again on the BBC i-Player.

"Rocking all over the world" was the minute-by-minute story of the day itself - it was inspirational, emotional, and brought back great memories of a time when music, musicians and music fans really managed to make a difference.

Although some of the clothes and hairstyles sparked horrible, horrible memories - and that was only looking at my own photographs of the day.

The other programme, broadcast on Tuesday night, was "Against All Odds", the story of how the day was organised and pulled together in only twelve weeks from initial idea. Yes, twelve weeks.

As you can imagine, the central theme that Bob Geldof kept hearing was "it can't be done". He was told he couldn't get the acts, he couldn't get a venue, he couldn't get a broadcaster. He was told that America was impossible. He was advised that the stage wouldn't work. Experts insisted that they were right, and he was wrong.

And he refused to take no for an answer.

What impressed me then, and it still does, was his single-minded pig-headedness not to let people stamp on his vision. He knew he - and we - had to do what we could to bring relief to Ethiopia, and this was all he could do. To paraphrase Nike, his answer was "Just f**king do it".

(Incidentally, he never said "Give us your f-ing money". What he said was "F the addresses, give them the numbers". And he never said "Play it again Sam" either.)

I met Bob Geldof a couple of years ago, when he spoke at a conference I was compering.

They say you should never meet your heroes. What nonsense.

He is everything you'd expect - inspiring, warm, funny, informed, entertaining, open, witty. And no, he hadn't seen the inside of a barbers for a while, but he did have great trainers on.

One of the things he said that day has stayed with me.

He said that all that he did ("all that he did?!") was to challenge people to get things done, using their own initiative. He said "I'd get a phone call saying 'I'm a PA in an office, and want to do something to help". Bob would say "Excellent - you're now 'Secretaries for Africa' - go and raise money".

A few weeks later an envelope would arrive, stuffed with cash, and a note saying "Secretaries for Africa did a sponsored run - here's the money we raised".

He's not the first to say that if we give people responsibility, and let them find answers or solutions to problems, we'll be amazed by their strength, ingenuity and integrity. But why do we keep forgetting that lesson?

Geldof launched Live Aid with only twelve weeks to set it up. He announced the line-up when very few of the bands had even been contacted, never mind had agreed to perform.

They succeeded.

The target was to raise a million pounds. The final figure was one hundred and fifty million pounds.

In 1961, John F Kennedy announced that the United States should commit to the goal of "by the end of this decade, landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to Earth". At the time, his experts expressly told him that it couldn't be done.

They succeeded.

Think big, and inspire others. Just because something is impossible doesn't mean it can't be done.

What do you remember from Live Aid?

It was twenty five years ago today. July 13th, 1985, at Wembley (and Philadelphia, and 6 other sites across the world).

A moment in TV history, but I didn't see any of the TV coverage until after the event. Because I was there!

The day the tickets went on sale, my brother Stuart happened to be in Edinburgh, and walking past the Playhouse box office. Seeing a queue, he joined it. (Well, that's what happens when you've been brought up in the Soviet Union during the beetroot shortages. Or East Kilbride).

Turned out the queue was for tickets for Live Aid - tickets we couldn't get near in London, living a mile or so from the venue. So on the day, we were there, and it was brilliant, from beginning to end.

Great memories, for a great cause, and as the programme on BBC TV called it tonight, the day music changed the world. OK, perhaps not forever, but at least for a while, and for some who might otherwise not have lived.

Tears, laughter, great sets from some of the finest pop and rock acts of all time. Bowie (of course). Queen. U2. Bryan Ferry. Sade. The Spandaus and Duran. And Quo kicked it all off, while Sir Paul Macca closed it without his mic being switched on.

What a day. Thanks Stuart, and thanks Bob.