Innovation
Friday
Friday 23/08/2002I'm up in Edinburgh, taking a break and trying like a hyperactive haggis to get tickets to anything worth seeing in the Festivals. As always, it's a scramble to find out what's any good before everyone else finds out, and then to get through the booking lines before you die of old age (or, in the case of the lines that play country music on hold, a mixture of apoplexy and ennui).
Friday 23/08/2002
I'm up in Edinburgh, taking a break and trying like a hyperactive haggis to get tickets to anything worth seeing in the Festivals. As always, it's a scramble to find out what's any good before everyone else finds out, and then to get through the booking lines before you die of old age (or, in the case of the lines that play country music on hold, a mixture of apoplexy and ennui). Needless to say, I miss the good things and end up seeing Aberdonian performance nose art ("Blow by Blow, Picked by Picts") in some dank cellar next to a large and continually complaining Australian woman called Skanky Roberts. Which makes me think. On the one hand, a city full of frustrated culture vultures with credit cards: on the other, eBay. A canny scalper could pre-order blocks of tickets for most of the shows well before the festivals start, at a handsome discount, and more than make up for the ones that bomb by carefully releasing blocks of the unobtainable ones onto the market via the Web. At last, I shall make my fortune and have my pick of the finest entertainments available to bipeds. Now if you'll excuse me, my inspiration has run dry and I must pop out to the offie for more.
I'm up in Edinburgh, taking a break and trying like a hyperactive haggis to get tickets to anything worth seeing in the Festivals. As always, it's a scramble to find out what's any good before everyone else finds out, and then to get through the booking lines before you die of old age (or, in the case of the lines that play country music on hold, a mixture of apoplexy and ennui). Needless to say, I miss the good things and end up seeing Aberdonian performance nose art ("Blow by Blow, Picked by Picts") in some dank cellar next to a large and continually complaining Australian woman called Skanky Roberts. Which makes me think. On the one hand, a city full of frustrated culture vultures with credit cards: on the other, eBay. A canny scalper could pre-order blocks of tickets for most of the shows well before the festivals start, at a handsome discount, and more than make up for the ones that bomb by carefully releasing blocks of the unobtainable ones onto the market via the Web. At last, I shall make my fortune and have my pick of the finest entertainments available to bipeds. Now if you'll excuse me, my inspiration has run dry and I must pop out to the offie for more.