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Showing posts from August, 2016

How do you doodle?

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Confession.
I doodle. I have always been a doodler. Although I rail against fidgets, I am still an inveterate doodler.
People doodle differently. Flowers, swirls, squares.
I also doodle most extravagantly when stressed.
My daughter and I had an odd double doodle moment the other week. She was writing up a Masters dissertation and I was trying not to be anxious about the fact that she was ... writing up a Masters dissertation.
Creepy though this sounds, our doodles were almost identical. Squared off boxes and geometric shapes.
Lauren has been doing art history and had insightful comments about the psychology of it all. It made sense to us, and yes, we are re-watching Gilmore Girls.
Today I had a anxious online meeting, so I got out the writing pad, hoping to make notes. All I did was doodle. Stressfully.
No wonder people revert to colour books.
I attach a wee picture of my stress-doodles for the record. 
PS The cross-hatching is a new feature. What does that mean?

Hacking the Fringe

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I’ve spent many hours combing (ha!) the Edinburgh Fringe online brochure this year, in search of comedic inspiration.

It’s hard to conceive of more than 30,000 performances of more than 2,000 shows – and that’s not counting the Free Fringe and other diversions. But how do you take advantage of such a cultural banquet, without breaking the bank or going bonkers?
Accommodation costs are fierce, so I went back to our old favourite holiday mode, the house exchange. Initially, I was sceptical that any Edinburgh resident would willingly miss out, but I was wrong. Twice, in fact, for we have arranged two exchanges for a double Fringe binge this season. Not central, but hey? How hard can it be?
I was born in Edinburgh, although I’ve never lived there, so I thought I’d be pretty au fait with getting around.Things have changed – and are changing – and I’ve had to learn fast. It turned out that buying the tickets was the easy bit and I’m proud to say I managed not to double book anything, or book tw…

You’re never too [insert adjective here] to enjoy being silly

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We all like to think we have a great sense of humour, but occasionally it can go missing. Somewhere between autumn and spring, I mislaid mine.

Maybe it was because of the soggy weather, but it happened. It can happen to anyone, of course, for serious reasons such as bereavement, loss, illness, shock. I won’t go on. Sometimes it’s just the ups and downs of normal life with a dash of Brexit. Mine seemed to have drained away through my boots.
In fact, it had been lying dormant, and had not totally disappeared, for on Thursday, I found it again. This was not by chance, for I had been hunting around for a while. A few weeks ago, I came up with a plan to be amused. Go and see some comedy. Well, the Fringe seemed, um, just the ticket.
I bought A LOT, of tickets, I mean. To all manner of madness, from satirical musicals to a one-man portrayal of Star Wars. On Thursday, we gathered up our bus fare, our loins, and a giant picnic and headed to the Pleasance at the heart of the Fringe.
As we clumped …