The Old Fart's Festival guide to surviving the Fringe: Finding your way around

So you’ve settled in to your chosen accommodation and have begun the process of choosing shows. You open the Programme book, take a deep breath and plunge in.

I should perhaps clarify before going any further that the Fringe is not the only festival going on in Edinburgh in August. There is the original Edinburgh International Festival which brings ballet, music and theatre from around the world to the city (you might feel more comfortable there dressed up a bit) and the International Book Festival where authors discuss their work in tents. But you’ve missed the June International Film Festival and likewise if you are into jazz, you’ve missed the big Jazz and Blues Festival. However, there’s music a-plenty: choral, classical, cabaret, a capella, folk, jazz, blues; organ, piano and instrumental recitals.

Confusingly there are three cathedrals in the city – St Giles on the Royal Mile and St Mary’s Metropolitan, not to be confused with St Mary’s in Palmerston Place, near the Haymarket. Make sure you remember which is which, because they are about a mile apart and it’s very annoying if you rock up to one of the St Mary’s for what you hoped was to be an evening organ recital only find that it’s a cello recital by candlelight (it’s happened, trust me...) The ladies of your party, however, will soon realise that St Mary’s Metropolitan is near John Lewis at the Waverley end of Princes Street. (An emporium with a strange magnetic effect on ladies – gentlemen, be warned!)

Similarly, check the locations of the venues very carefully and make sure you leave enough time to walk from one to the other. George Street, for example, is not connected to George Square, as you might think, and leaving 10 minutes to sprint across the city is not to be recommended, particularly at our age. (It’s also happened, trust me...) The visit next morning to ask your pharmacist what will relieve aching knees and twisted ankles from the cobbled streets, to be met with “Well, what do you expect at your age?” can be embarrassing. (And yes, it too has happened...)

You can have Bach for Breakfast (at the outrageous time of 9.30 when most old farts have just regained the power of speech), Chopin after Lunch, Brahms at Teatime and Bach (again) at Bedtime, all without leaving Princes Street. Perhaps while the ladies go off to John Lewis? And how about rounding off the day with Hot Chocolate by candlelight at Old St Paul’s Church?

It is well worth considering becoming a Friend of the Fringe. It costs a minimum of £30.00 but there are considerable benefits: 2-for-1 tickets for a good number of shows, which for budget minded old farts is a bonus; a special hut at the main Fringe office in the Royal Mile – avoiding the need to queue in the rain for an hour when things get busy; and lovely young staff who are there to find the best deals. In years gone by, you also avoided paying a booking fee, but now you have to pay £0.80 for each ticket bought, up to a max of £4.80 as you do online. Shameful, smacks of greed, although they say it’s the only way they can maintain the box office. Then they ask for a donation to ‘save’ the Fringe! Huh! I am investigating a way to avoid it…

This year there are some 3398 shows in 300 venues so you ain’t going to see them all. Going through the Fringe Programme might appear daunting, but as Sarah Bradley wrote in her introduction to the Fringe in The Independent (21 July), “Don’t panic. The Fringe is as much a festival to get lost in as to find your way around … planned or unplanned, you can’t go wrong!”

We tested her theory already with our first three shows. Two at at the Traverse Theatre: the superbly written and performed Letters to Morrissey, a moving monologue about a teenager who can’t find anyone to trust, and Nassim where an actor is given a sealed script to act out. Both employ technology to a high level and both can be recommended! And then finally off to see an old, always good value, favourite, Henning Wehn, the German comedy ambassador (irony always intended!) perform Westphalia is Not an Option. In other years he’s performed in a cave on Cowgate, so his trademark opening “Welcome to my bunker ...” Is hardly plausible in the rarified atmosphere of Queen’s Hall.

We didn’t get lost once. And today is the official start of the Fringe: prepare yourselves for a busy weekend.

Forgive me, but I haven’t reported that the train tickets that accidentally went though my laminator raised not a single comment from the inspectors. I guess they are used to seeing such singed permission to travel documents.

And another tip, if you’re coming up by train, it may be worth getting at Haymarket Station where the taxi queues are much shorter than those at Waverley.

Chris Bratt returns on Monday with more festival dos and don’ts