The culture show

As all media types will be aware, the Edinburgh Festival is in full swing. As I suspected might happen, when you're actually living here, if you avoid the area around the Pleasance entirely, then you can practically remain oblivious to the whole thing. In previous years, when I've been up for a holiday and gone to five shows a day, then tried to be all spontaneous at night (aka 'drink like a wino till four a.m'), it's felt like the whole city is obsessed by the Festival and that everyone is spending every waking hour attending shows, reading about shows, booking tickets for shows and then discussing with you what shows you've seen. Or which comedians you've spotted loitering in the Pleasance courtyard and wondered whether if you tried to talk to them, they'd be welcoming or narky and dismissive.

However, if you're a/ working and b/ have been so slack that you haven't actually booked anything to see till week two of the Festival (and right at the end of week two at that), then it's just like someone's suddenly bussed in an extra 10,000 people. Most of whom seemed to be on the Royal Mile when I went out to get lunch the other day. Any female performer under 25 and promoting their show seems to be dressed either as a wench or a tart. There are a lot of basque/fishnet combos which probably seem an excellent idea at 9.00am when it's sunny, but less fabulous when at 2.00pm every day you're deluged by the daily monsoon rain for half an hour. Also, if you thought your tart gear was startlingly original and was going to make your show stand out, then sadly it won't - you're now one of 3,000 young women wandering the city dressed as a slapper. (Insert 'and that doesn't include the ones who live here and dress like that normally' gag here).

So far, the only Festival show I've been to was a baroque music concert in a church - very grown-up. The last music event I went to was a quartet in a gallery, which I'd thought was going to be quite restful. In fact, it was an hour and a half of them playing modern compositions which sounded like someone throwing pots and pans down a stairwell - and at such a frantic pace that one of them reduced his bow to a load of shredded string. I quite wanted to tear my ears off - and when I saw a couple who were sitting over the other side of the gallery indulging in a really OTT PDA session, I wanted to poke myself in the eyes too.

Luckily this week's music was much better - some stirring choral action, and some excellent medieval-style brass instruments in the mix too. And the tickets were free! Result. Next up: Mark Watson, Dan Antopolski, a play about boxing, Laura Solon's new show and Matt Green, which should be a good mash-up of the familiar and the new. I'll be in the swing of things, but without the chronic hangovers of yesteryear, which is probably a good balance.