I am in Edinburgh, am here for five days doing The Stand. I find it very odd being here outside of festival time.
For one, i don’t have that horrible sense of dread/hangover/tiredness/fear/panic that these city streets have led me to be accustomed to.
And secondly, I’m making money here. I have money in my pocket with no flyerers, producers etc etc to pay.
I try to be good with getting paid gig money in cash and pop it straight in the bank otherwise it somewhere haemorrhages out of my wallet, but today is a sunday, the banks are shut, claire has been up to visit and I discovered a posh eatery that I have been to every day I’ve been here.
the other night I wanted a nice hot meal at about 5ish, I also wanted it to takeaway so that I could go to the hotel and watch Come Dine With Me (Don’t judge me).
I didn’t want a burger or a pizza or a subway, but all the sandwich shops were shutting – then after a long wander I found this place. Despite being in scotland my englishness prevailed and when handed a menu I knew I had to order despite the prices looking a bit much. But it’s not allowed to leave after getting the menu is it?
so I ordered some fancy sounding tagliettele with mushrooms and a creamy sauce and shit (the smaller £6 size, not the £10 meal) and i sat and waited – come dine with me o’clock approaching fast. The food arrived in a very small looking box. I rushed back and ate, and can safely say it was the best pasta I have ever eaten. And much better that what the “christmas in july” twat was serving up on the telly.
Last night, Claire had arrived so we went back for some excellent brownies and cake and this morning I had my eye on going back there for eggs benedict. Something I have never ever tried, and am not even entirely sure what it is.
Back there this morning we were given a table and I saw that the eggs I wanted were £8. Normally a bit too much for posh poached egg, but the gig money rubbing a hole in my pocket meant I tucked in, ordering eggs benedict for all, (well, me, claire had poached egg without the benedict – whatever that is)
It arrived (and with haddock). I put some brown sauce on the plate as I always do with eggs. But it remained untouched, the eggs were fucking fantastic. Though I am still tonight scared that the chef got the plate back with brown sauce on it and started swearing that some cunt wants to ruin his delicate benedict (it’s a type of monk) with fucking brown fucking sauce. Well, mr/mrs chef – the sauce wasn’t touched. I promise.
We didn’t enjoy the experience as much as we could have, there was a loud table of posh people next to us, the kind that probably wipe their arse with eggs benedict and wouldn’t know how to spend less than £7.90 on a meal.
but they kept me grounded. I’ll have a fry up tomorrow.