The day came at last. The day of our final performance. Really, it’s flown by. Some other people were of the opinion that a 15-night run was a bit too long for us but I don’t think so. I think it’s the perfect length. I’m really quite sad this show is over now.
The day started with Jake and I leaving early to have brunch with some old friends. Both former medical students, now first-year doctors. Lauren (whom you may know from my Fringe Diary 2015 posts), recently relocated to Edinburgh for her F1 year, and Sarah visiting just for the day. I (and I alone) affectionately know Lauren as “Glanners”, in contraction of her last name, a nickname she has so far given no objection to. Sarah is known affectionately by almost everyone else as “Q” in contraction of her middle name.
There are few people in the world who it is more fun to have brunch with than Q and Glanners. Gossip, shade, RuPaul’s drag race references, and feminist discourse all abound over eggs benedict, tea, and sausage baps. Q and Glanners are both part of the Boshemia team (with Q being one of the big three), who have been doing, and continue to do some very exciting, original things in terms of online and print media that you really should all make yourselves aware of.
I accompanied the girls briefly to a simply lovely little independent bookshop, Lighthouse over on West Nicholson Street, before departing from them to resume flyering on the Mile. Whilst there, I was handed a flyer by a very pretty girl whose outfit resembled that of a Minion from Despicable Me. The description for the show, Maklena, was intriguing and, given that it had one confirmed pretty girl in the cast, my weak-willed, easily-manipulated self decided to give it a look. Sometimes your own shallowness can reward you; it was a damn great show, and I’m glad my own weakness for a pretty face allowed me to overlook my usual disdain for Cambridge drama groups.
After that it was back to flyering, and more sitting in the cafe, before joining the others for the planned cast meal. That was tad chaotic. As no places has been willing to accept prior bookings (for reasons I’m sure make sense but don’t understand) we were reduced to wandering around trying to find some restaurant that could seat ten of us. Eventually we located a pizza place (the only place that could take us) and all sat down to dinner. Sadly we were missing Talia who, being unable to have gluten or dairy, was not exactly suited to pizza. I’m given to understand she had a nice time off with some other friends though, so all’s well.
That done, it was time for the last bit of flyering before the Final Performance. I’ll miss being able to yell “We are all going to die!” at strangers on the street. Of all the pitches I’ve ever had to shout on the Mile these three years, it’s been my favourite. Soon enough, it was time to go to the venue and take to the stage one last time. It’d been a long road but here we were, performing We Are All Going to Die at the Fringe for the final time. And it was a bloody good performance. The best one we’ve ever done a think. We had a good audience who laughed well, and I’d say we really went out on a high with that one.
Although there had been some notions of an after party or drinks of some kind, almost everyone just felt too zonked. Instead we opted for a nice cool down back at the house, all basking in the post-run revelry. We were done, actually properly done. We Are All Going to Die was over.
I’ll miss it.