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The Coronalogues
The Coronalogues

Season 2, Episode 5 · 5 months ago

An Edinburgh Address

ABOUT THIS EPISODE

The City of Edinburgh speaks to her people. 

1 City, 1 Year On, 5 More Stories.

A restauranteur contemplates losing her career, a conspiracy theorist uncovers a strange plot, a young girl writes to a TV judge, a woman attempts a daring escape from a marriage and the City of Edinburgh finally addresses her own.

A second series of interconnected tales from a time like no other…

For The Coronalogues

“…a warm heated portrait of ordinary humanity…” The Scotsman.

“McAllister depicts contemporary urban life with flair and a witty sense of humour steeped in realism” The UpComing

If you have enjoyed these recordings we ask you to please consider making a donation. Donations can be made via our PayPal link https://bit.ly/DonateWTS or by visiting watchthisspaceproductions.com or gildedballoon.co.uk All donations will be distributed evenly between contributors.

The coronalogs, the second wave,Chapter Five and Edinburgh address. Well, one thing we can agree upon.This last year will certainly not be remembered as my prime through no fault ofmy own, I may add. You cannot hold me to account. Iam as upturned as all of you. I resisted as much as I could. My Darlings, there is nothing I long for more than for you toclaim me back. Believe me, I long for the day when you stripoff those cumber some things from around your head so I can get a goodlook at your beautiful faces and allow you to embrace me once more. Mydevoted darlings, you recognize the voice. This is what I am most oftenexpected to sound like. That broady women. I always found her shrill, herautoribus like I've been gargling whiskey soaked...

...gravel at the end of my ninthkinsecutive cigarette all drink in date. Perhaps you expected me to sound a bitmore Welsh, Irven Welsh, not Tom Jones Welsh. I could be morebegbe by. Chose not to do that. You can. None are true.Then again, all are true to a point. Anyone who spent morethan five minutes in my company knows that. I'm many voices, I tell manystories. I am international, Darling, most certainly European, British, yes, though, I have to say, increasingly reluctantly so, but I ammost defiantly Scottish. I will not be held down to the one interpretation. I am so much more than the limited imagination of just some of you. I am the very definition of inclusivity, open to anyone everyone, just solong as you can pay. That is perhaps the only thing I amto all people. Expensive, I will admit to that, but look atwhat you're getting for your money. This isn't any old city you're buying intohere. This is the Athens of the North, admittedly with heavier rain andtaxation, but still no one can deny even now, in these times,I am still spectacular. I haven't allowed lockdown to ruin my figure. Istill dazzle effortlessly in the liquid light of...

...an east coast evening, even withoutall the fireworks, jewelry and festival ballgowns. My beauty is still undeniable, mysilhouette iconic, my magnificence made perhaps more timeless now that have been strippedof all the sparkly makeup. I am still exquisitely Edinburgh. I'm an up, I'm still the Mad God's dream. I'm a showpiece, I'm a capitalcity, no matter how upset that makes my sister Glasgow always been jealous thatone. It's not really fair to make a comparison. And please don't hearme say that she is plain in any way. I'm not saying that.She just has her own unique style, very pretty in parts, a veryearthy attractiveness. Not for everyone, but if you like her, you likeher. For those who like that sort of thing, that's the sort ofthing they like. She's very popular amongst their own and I have to sayshe's very good to them. The people make glass go, apparently very true. I'm just not sure that's quite the flex she thinks it is. It'sa bit like saying the weather makes Aberdeen. I mean they're lovely people, mostof them friendly to the point of intrusion, but for the love ofGod, and please not, I do love my sister dearly. I'm reallynot trying to be nice to hear,...

...but someone needs to tell her orangereally isn't her color. She really needs to banish it. Altogether from herwardrobe. It's embarrassing to see it out in public, wearing it without somuch as a bloody face mask to hide her shame. Why? Her truecolors are much kinder than that, so much bolder and impressive. I don'tknow why she insists upon wearing it. She's had it for far too longand somebody just needs to say to her it's old and it was always ugly. Throw it out. Not Me, of course. I'm not suggesting Ishould say anything to her. Wouldn't? They're not my place, not I'ma stupid enough terrible temper that woman has a times, especially with a drinkingher, things can turn aggressive really quickly, believe you me. One Minute you'reour best pal, singing songs and getting her life story, next thingyou've got a glass of tonic wine thrown in your face because you politely suggestedtoning down the language. There's no need for the sea words and a brassery. But that's my point. I know who I am. I accept it. FLEMISHES and all. That's the difference between her and I. to beperfectly honest with you, a big part of our problem. She's never reallygot over me being recognized for my capital quality. I mean the cheek ofthat. This from someone who's dined out on that second city of the empire, nonsince, for decades. Again, not quite the most that once was. The Wind has change, my dear. These are not the days to beshouting your mouth off about your role in the empire. And regardless,it changes nothing. I am and always shall be the capital. She's stillgot a big chip on her shoulder about...

...that, and we all know howshe feels about chips. I she might be quick to offer you your tea, but you can bet your BMI it's not boached. Don't dare tell herI said that. I'll end up with more than I've traffic gone on myhead. But enough for this pleather in. I'm not here to gossip about mysister. I've got things I wish to see, important things, andI would like it to be known that this is for all who claim meas that own. You belong to me through nothing more than your own inclination. You didn't have lived here, or indeed evor I've lived here. Youmay only have visited spend and I attended the party once. Perhaps you onlypaused here briefly on route to somewhere less fabulous, but your heart was foreverstolen and you've secretly since claimed me as your own. I've got a longlist of jealous lovers who are scattered all over the globe, most of yetto get over me. I reach out to all of you, all whoclaim me as there's because indeed I am. I am every romantic notion of myselfthat you dare to muster. I exist as much in your imagination asI do in reality, and will exceed expectations in both, which is whyI say to you this, hold on. I know you were weary. Iget that you're sick of this sickness, that you're ill with the unadulterated insolenceof this illness, the very fucking audacity. Sorry, I shouldn't swear, but how dare this thing, this tiny little microscopic thing, get todictate what I do? Does it not know who I am? I mean, how do you think I feel? Not Once in seventy years as anythingcurtailed my social calendar. My annual cultural...

...cavalcades were seen as a necessity forthe betterment of the planet's mental health. The show always went on through thebest of times, through the worst of times, especially in the worst oftimes. That was a whole point. One thousand nine hundred forty six.Few of you will remember how dismmal nineteen forty six was, but it madethis year look like a leathouse party. I'd had enough. I just thoughtto myself, I'm not having this anymore. I'm not one for dwelling and melancholy, you see, I've had too much of it. It does nobodyany good time to get on. So one thousand nine hundred forty seven wehad a festival which became the festival, then festivals too many account I becamethe festival city. Every year the world comes to me and we celebrate thevery idea of an idea. We abandon ourselves to an orgy of senseless creativity, a sweaty mass of inklings and concepts and conflicts and one liners and anecdotesand rants in every shape and self indulgent color you can imagine, all trippingover themselves for stage time and every cramped corner of my enigmatically puzzled architecture.I am the very essence of inspiration, a global source of illumination, andI am put asunder by a unicious microbe paused in my crime by a Pishy, we poisonous particle. Trust me, I understand your frustration. And yetstill I say to you, hold on, not because I think that things willreturn to normal. You understand.

I think we would agree we werepast the point of that some time ago. To be honest, who would wantthem to? We surely have more aspiration than that. We must aimto be better. That surely must be the point of this. To bebetter, reassess a few things, lots to think about, not all ofit bad, but there are clearly challenges ahead. No point in denying it, and without wanting a sound pious, we almost do a bit, Imean a very base level. For God's sake, get your vaccine. Icannot deny that I'm no stranger to an infection or two, as anyone whoslept with a comedian at the fringe you'll tell you. I am a citythat seen residents breacked up in their streets over our breaks. So don't talkto me about harsh measures. I think we can all agree the one thingI do not need any more of is another bloody ghost to in fact,if I had my way, we'd rehome all these anti vaxxers and made kingsclose until they come to their bloody senses. But I'm talking more than that.We are all prettle this now, a year of this, and ournerves are sharp, temper short, emotions repressed, anxiety is heightened. Theperilous nature of our existence has been laid bare. We all know now beyonddoubt that the entire world can change in a s kneeze, that the storyof our lives can be suddenly and violently disrupted by a single cough. I'mjust the same as you. I am you. If we don't learn fromthis, if we don't change, if we can't come to terms with theirown in consequence, then how can we ever hope to mean anything? SoI say again, my darlings, however you may find yourself, hold on. If I was wearing my short bread...

Shawl, I would say there's agood day coming. A pithy sentiment, you might say, but I'm notabove pithiness. pithiness has its place and it sells a lot of whiskey.But there will be a day on the other side of all of this whenwe are sitting in something new something better, because you will have created it,you will have reimagined me, and I have real faith that will besomething to celebrate. It'd better be. I'm setting a lot of unused fireworks. And Edinburgh address was performed by Kaitlin McFarland. It was written by Karemcallister. The music was composed by Dave B mack. Special thanks go toShauna McDonald, Christa McDonald Scott, Edinburgh Youth Theater, Katie and Karen Corden, and all it gilded balloon, the CORONALOGUS. The second wave is awatch this space production in partnership with Gilded Balloon. This has been a difficulttime for the arts. None of the contributors have received any payment. Ifyou have enjoyed this episode and would like to donate, then details can befound in the audio description. Alternatively, you can donate by visiting watch thisspace productionscom or gilded balloon dot call dot U K. all donations will besplit equally amongst the contributors.

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