The Scottish coast almost looked Mediterranean as we drove up to Edinburgh. The sun was shining, the sky clear and the sea an unusual sparkling blue (rather than the more normal harsh stormy grey). I felt like I was getting away from the previous couple of weeks and starting anew (though as I understand it, there might be journalists in Edinburgh).
Soon enough we were pulling up outside our flat and as it was the same one I'd been in last year it felt (as it always does) that we'd never been away. Once we'd lugged all our stuff upstairs there was a cup of tea waiting for us and some smiling flat mates and everything was looking grand. Our landlord was in, having a look at the boiler. After a few moments he said to me "That's a bit of Hitler Moustache you've got going on there," making him almost the first stranger to comment on it (though as we were already talking it perhaps doesn't count).
Then we took the car up to Tescos to load up with groceries and to buy some dinner. This is as much a part of the Edinburgh experience as anything else. That first communal shop. Within days we'll all be buying our own stuff and probably writing our names on it in the fridge, but for now we were all cheerily agreeing to co-purchase butter and bread and shower gel. Lucy laughed at me as I bought eight yoghurts, though they were on offer, so I don't know what was so amusing. She was buying loads of tins of Special Brew (she claimed for her show) and I said nothing. "Judge Not, Lest Ye be Judged" as I once said.
The car was too full of food for us all to get in so cleverly Lucy and new boy Alex said they'd walk home and they didn't arrive back til most of the bags were up the three flights of stairs. I hate them both. I will have my revenge on them. I will drink all Lucy's Special Brew and that will show her.
I then had to find somewhere to leave my car for a month, which is increasingly difficult in traffic warden packed, parking zone crazy Edinburgh. But I think I am safe back in the same street as I left it last year.
It was a long walk home (probably harder than the one done by Nelson Mandela) and on the way I bought the Scottish Mail on Sunday because someone had twittered to say they called my show racist (ironic, I thought). This was my big worry about the Guardian article and for all the protests that everyone would understand the context, I felt it was likely that someone would pick up on the implication. Also that Guardian article is on file for ever now and I am sure will be brought up by future interviewers - "So in 2009 you took an unusual direction with your racist show".
As it turned out I'd picked up the wrong paper - it was the Scottish Sunday Mail who'd written about me. I couldn't be bothered to go out and check it again. Hopefully it won't be indicative of anything bad to come.
We had a roast chicken for dinner (again early on communal meals are quite normal, but as we get into the swing of things it becomes more difficult to arrange and people can't be bothered). There was so much food and I had done nothing to help prepare it, so I thought I should do my bit by eating as much as possible.
Then we watched the disappointing (and I didn't start with high hopes) "Confessions of a Shopaholic" which loved to do that joke where someone goes, "She's bossy and rude and objectionable.... I love her" so much that there were at least five instances of it that I counted. It became so predictable that it would have been funny to do one at the end where it just said, "She's selfish, vain and has no regard for anyone else... what a horrible, horrible person." I almost thought it was worth writing a film that was this shallow and useless and then do that as a very subtle parody. But it would be very expensive and I'm not sure how many people would get the joke.
Anyway, I am back in Edinburgh. Eighteenth time (as a performer). Let's see what happens.
