Last night my mum tried to book some tickets for a show but the box office was closed and the answer machine simply said we're shut but we open again just before performances.

She phoned back and left an angry message saying "HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW WHEN YOUR PERFORMANCES START?"

While she had a point there was no need to leave angry voicemail.

This morning she was railing at me for snapping at my scroungey uncle (eg. he asked to borrow my sax from my parents while I was at uni and sold it) when I haven't even spoken to him directly and the phone went.

"Hello... Oh... yes... last night...sorry"

The theatre had 1471ed her.

WIN MY LIFE

For my delictation, rather than probably yours, here is a complete list of everything I saw at Edinburgh this year:

Art:
Eva Hesse (never before displayed studio works [you could still see her thumb prints 30 years on])
The Enlightenments (new art based on Enlightenment themes: ukelele news performance was the best)
Arists Rooms (including Damien Hirst's classics, Celmins, Gallagher, Katz, Martin, Warhol, and Woodman)
Jane and Louise Wilson (film/photos based on Kubrick's unmade film The Aryan Papers)


Comedy:
Superclump (9 stand ups do sketches, then get swine flu)
Trevor Lock (Harry Hill meets Russell Brand with a 15 minute pause in the middle)
Twinge Party (Frisky and Mannish blow my pop mind; Princess Cabaret do the same song a lot; live comedy tweeting from Late Night Gimp Fight, Tony Cowards, Joey Lycett, Ewan Spence [I organised this bit])
Andrew O'Neill (exquisitely good stand up with enough puns to kill a horse)
Silent Disco (MEH)
Chris Cox (I've worked out how it was all done except one trick: how does he force Peter [not as rude as it sounds, but I do <3 Cox])
Pink Bus (lots of hot young comedians on a hot pink bus filled with charity shop detritus [Max and Ivan shone out])
Rich Hall (slick comedy while being dive-bombed by two moths)
Late Night Gimp Fight (perfectly pitched late night sketches... and gimps)
Tommy and the Weeks (one of my absolutely favourite shows- I <3 the ghost in Tom Bell's hair)
Fucking Funny for a Fiver (I can't remember any of this)
The Fix Presents (the editor of The Fix drains any good will from the room then forces Tim Key to perform to our soulless corpses)
For One Night Only (comedy from acts called Tom [Basden did his rude set because his girlfriend was there])
Idiots of Ants (Brilliant, slick, effortless: might as well have been on TV)
Twitter Comedy (Tiernan Douieb showcases basically everybody on the fringe in an epic 2 hour gig of technical difficulties and Michael Legge wanking)
Stand Up Poetry (Laura Dockerill takes my heart in a stunning performance, Luke Wright, Phill Jupitus and Andre from Early Edition do some poems)
Robin Ince's free show (Absolute genius: a perfect show)
Random night of Cabaret in Assembly Rooms (I didn't see a man drag a string of uninflated balloons through his nostrils, I did see wonderful cabaret songs about death and fell in love with Frisky)
Guilty Pleasure (Jen and I danced like fools and an actor bought us a drink)
Alex Maple (there was free chocolate and Alex spent most of the show trying to get himself arrested by the policeman in the front row)
David O'Doherty (a lovely, friendly hour: not enough songs)
Marcus Brigstocke (Pitch perfect, anti-religion argument that then cops out)
Karaoke Circus (best show at the fringe: Ince singing Cococabana indelibly etched in my ear drums, Herring's Sparks cover best left alone)
Tom Bell (you're in safe and loving comedic hands, but the mic cable is in a puddle, Tom)
Mike Wozniak (didn't laugh much at the time but giggling like a fool about it for 3 days afterwards: slow burner)
Jon Richardson's Radio 6 show (Micky Flanagan, Jack Whitehall [fit but standard comedy], Dead Cat Bounce [Irish comedy rock], and for no reason Malcolm Middleton)
Comedy Countdown (second best show of the fringe: Wozniak's chemical symbol won my heart, Ed Aczel's world weary winning was lovable, Dan Atkinson's drunk presenter was drunk, and Sinha as Carol inspired)
Matt Kirshen (wonderful storytelling, but I'm still shorter than Napoleon)
King of Everything (indulgent but very funny)
Fergus Craig (lovely show- not enough Neighbours clips!)
Bourgeois and Maurice (stunning cabaret, excellent video: let Maurice sing!)
Bridget Christie (the touch of lee makes this AMAZING: Christie deserves more attention)
A Slight Dangerous Comedy Occasion (I watched Ivo Graeme shave all of Ben Target's beautiful hair off and I almost cried)
Pappy's Fun Club (the best show on and off the fringe but with Advocaat. I can still taste the rotten stuff).
The Hotel (last ever show, completely chaotic, brilliant [the interview was especially funny])

I've worked out I saw over 100 comedians do at least 5 mins of material each, and I saw still more drunkenly babbling in Brookes.

I performed in over 20 Hotel shows and my throat is still sore from shouting "THIS ADMIN CENTRE HAS BEEN APPROVED OF BY INTERNATIONAL POP SENSATION CHER".

I have come back inspired, hopeful, dedicated and in love with the city of Edinburgh. Ladies and gentlemen, that was the best month of my life to date.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00m7010/The_Culture_Show_2009_2010_The_Edinburgh_Festival_Show_2

Watch the first 10 mins of The Culture Show to see a bit of the show I'm in: Mark Watson's The Hotel.

NB It's nothing like Hostel which was quite literally a load of w@nk.

http://www.festbuzz.com

Festbuzz is collating reviews from the public at this year's Edinburgh fringe. So if you've seen a show and feel like tweeting about it add #festbuzz at the end to make sure the site picks it up!

You can also just tweet about Edinburgh in general and add the #festbuzz tag- the site is about crowdsourcing the mood up here. And currently the mood is lovely!

( Films that start with child death (hidden to avoid spoiling) )

I'm just saying there was something in that dissertation I wrote for my MA. I just didn't say it very well/

"Hello Inland Revenue, I'd like to change my address."

"Certainly."

"I now live at 123 Essex St, Essex."

"That has now been changed."

"While I'm on the phone, could you tell me my tax reference number too?"

"No, for security reasons we can only send that out by post."

"To the address I just gave you?"

"Yes."

Deleted in case of reprisals.

I do love that word though.

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 20 people you like and include me. Try not to repeat a song title. Enjoy!

Pick Your Artist: Britney Spears

Are you male or female: I'm not a girl, not yet a woman.

Describe yourself: Born to make you happy.

How do you feel about yourself: That is just so typically me.

Describe where you currently live: Don't matter if I step on the scene or sneak away to the Philippines.

If you could go anywhere you wanted to go: I'd move across the world for you.

Your favourite form of transportation: Sometimes I run.

Your best friend is: It's Britney, bitch.

Your favourite colour is: The palest green.

Favourite time of day: Early morning.

If your life were a TV programme, what would it be called?: Don't You Know That You're Toxic? (Gameshow format, commission x 6).

What is life to you: I don't need permission, make my own decisions.

What is the best advice you have to give: What's practical is logical: what the Hell who cares.

If you could change your name, what would it be: Miss Bad Media Karma.

Thought for the day: I still believe that you will be here, and give me a sign.

How I would like to die: Fall off the edge of my mind.

My soul's present condition: I'm not that innocent.

My motto: Stronger than yesterday.

Yes, it’s a massive amount of money, but if it means never dealing with a stroppy builder again it’s cheap at twice the price.

The Mirror

The roof leaks, the walls are cracked, the plumbing is shot, the heating is non-existent and the whole place is filled with a lifetime of clutter. In come the builders, and ten weeks later — hey, presto — they have a brand new home that is clean and light and spacious. The only downside is that it cost them £125,000.

The Times

Architect George Clarke helps homeowners with different budgets fall back in love with their properties, handling all aspects of the rebuild and design. He begins with a family whose house has been neglected for 13 years, and discovers there is severe structural damage to the roof. Experienced builders also share their insider tips, and the secrets of good interior design are revealed

The Guardian (guide)

NB The Guide actually gave The Home Show a pick of the day thing, but I can't find this review online. How can a thing not be online? It doesn't make sense in 2009.

George Clarke takes his mallet to another succession of architectural embarrassments as the tolerable property series returns. Tonight's mission? The Tardisification of Anthony and Alicia's higgledy-piggledy Victorian ruin: a three-storey wreck stuffed to the guttering with crumbling masonry, unaccountable nooks, children and cracked bits. While Clarke sets about his £125k renovation plan, tips are emitted with the force of a pump-action Pez dispenser ("Never pay builders upfront! Use bold colour sparingly!"). Unexpectedly non-irksome reconstructive action ensues.

The Guardian, Guide, Pick of the Day (thanks to My First Kitchen).

The Home Show
Highlight

Thursday 21 May
8:00pm - 9:00pm
Channel 4
1/8

One of television's more useful and informative property shows returns as cheery, sensible architect George Clarke gets to grips with a ramshackle house. Antony and Alicia have lived in their terraced home since they were both students, and in 13 years have done nothing to stop it from sliding into crumbling disrepair. The place is a mess - the roof's in a terrible state, the chimney is unsafe, huge wall cracks let in chilly winds, the decor is dreadful and there's clutter everywhere. So George moves in, gets to know the problems and prepares to put things right. Which is where we come to The Home Show's central gimmick - Antony and Alicia have to move out, having handed George a huge cheque to spend as he pleases. And they won't be back for ten weeks, until the project is complete. Talk about trusting... But George is a good egg and sets to work immediately. First, clear every last nook and cranny of every last stick of furniture and spray-paint the whole place white, to give an idea of the house's space. (And it's a remarkably effective device, which always galvanises the house-owners.) Then the real work begins, which is where the problems start. It seems that huge cheque might not be big enough after all.

Radio Times reviewer - Alison Graham

We were on a boat and staring at almost sheer cliff face with shrubs on, and three mountain goats about half way up.

Behind me, a Northern lady turned to her companion and said, "If that were me, I'd fall off."

I feel I should post some advice if anyone is going to get anything positive out of this whole thing:

If you've got someone you love: hold on to them.

On Saturday morning I had my first ever house viewing and I took my dad with me since the place reportedly needed a lot of work (it does indeed- new carpets, new kitchen and a new bathroom and that's just for starters).

Afterwards we did some packing and took my drums, exercise bike and all my boxes full of wool, photos and My Little Ponies to Tooting to Louise's house. I now feel much more at home surrounded by bits of wool and crayons and plastic horses even if I still am sleeping on the couch for another 2 weeks.

My dad then took me for lunch at the Windmill in Clapham where he proceeded to tell me for no apparent reason the story of Suzy Lamplugh. What happened next was an act of untimely transference and left me feeling like I was having a breakdown.

I cannot explain in full why things, such random things, have such a great effect on me sometimes. The story of Suzy continued to haunt me all day, even after my dad had gone home. I tried to take my mind off it. I dyed my hair purple. I worked AQA. I went and got mullered in Soho. I sobered up and went to Ballans for an alcoholic breakfast with friends. And still at 5am I couldn't get Suzy's story out of my head.

I went back to Camberwell on a night bus and as I got closer and closer to my front door I realised there was absolutely no way I could go into an empty flat. So I turned round and headed for Louise's. It took me a whole extra hour to get to Tooting.

Then for the whole of today I have largely just sat in doors thinking about it. And researching it on the internet. Then I got into a really bad place and started reading pages like this:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_who_have_mysteriously_disappeared

Or rather, reading every entry listed on a page like that.

And I really shouldn't keep obsessing over the Beaumont children but there's something so... unfinished about the whole business.

When Louise got in this evening I tried to explain about Suzy but I just got all shakey and started crying.

The only way I can explain any of this is that I'm transferring the pain and confusion caused by moving house and being on my own on to a woman who (probably) died over 20 years ago. But even now I'm still sitting here feeling like I'm stuck in an M R James story and that the doorbell will ring and Mr Kipper will be waiting for me outside.

Another weekend, another set of indistinct memories, smiles, laughs and long periods of feeling blank faced and pale. However, I seem to have spent this weekend hangover-free which is the first one I've managed since Christmas. I'm not saying I deserve a medal, that is for future generations to say.

I accomplished a lot, I feel. I made about £70 inbetween Silent Discoing, lawn-laying, clothes packing, feeling sorry for myself, and having my life turned into a 1990s American college film.

I've also caught up on all my favourite TV including Watchdog AND Rogue Traders. Enjoying the BBC's decision that these two excellent brands can run concurrently.

Work is so incredibly busy that I barely have time to look at Fail Blog more than once a day, and I'm almost dismayed at having to go home at the end of the day. This is no reflection on excellent housemates Louise and Suzanne, who have made me feel incredibly welcome and warm these last few weeks, but the feeling of limbo is much less present between 10am and 6pm when I have so much to occupy my brain.

Having reduced my sugar and calorie content considerably this week I am dismayed to announce my seemingly boundless energy and penchant for taking on the form of Tigger in pubs after one drink are unrelated to foodstuffs and clearly a psychological problem in their own right. Here's too another week of hard work and utter fun in equal portions.

Ah, screw you Snyder. I always thought you were a ninny.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2009/mar/06/watchmen-women

Many reviews including this one have led to me decide to eschew THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY FVCKING YEAR in favour of The Patented Elise X Men Method. That method being waiting 8 years for the hype to die down before being able to watch it as a camp piece of fluffy fun, rather than spending years fuming that something I owned a part of (or rather something that owned a part of me) has been destroyed by crass marketing, and the inability of directors to not interpret "sexing something up" as removing women's clothing.

While there are certainly still elements of the book I am crying out to see translated well on screen that clearly have been executed with a modicom of charm and beauty (the stuff on Mars is reputedly "good"), I imagine within a few days I should be able to see them individually on YouTube or other copyright infringing internet sites.

Instead I am going to heavily emotionally invest in my own adaptation of The Chrysalids (due out in 2025 [funding/talent/career pending]) which even if it is a disappointment to myself and the larger world will at least be heartfelt.

From: IT
Sent: 03 March 2009 17:05
To: Elise
Subject: RE: home show Stylists

Ok both created but I could not find Dylan Thomas on my address list. Has he started yet? Or does he have an email account?

Thanks


From: , Elise
Sent: 03 March 2009 17:07
To: IT
Subject: RE: home show Stylists

He’s actually a long dead Welsh poet. I actually meant Dylan James but my brain went a bit funny.

Sorry.

What would you call the children of the baby boomer generation?

The baby boomers' babies?

Can anyone help me with this? It's driving me nuts.

I'm trying to find out how many extensions were built on houses in the 1980s.

Obviously this is pie in the sky, but having read up on Nigel Lawson's contribution to the crash I think there might well be a stat out there.

My superiors inform me there was regulation or possibly grants allowed for extending your house in the 1980s because no one could afford to buy.

This sounds like a misremembered understanding of deregulation of lending in 1988.

Any help/misremember ramblings/hardcore factage appreciated.

Clearly I was "born too late, into a world that didn't care about the UK housing market enough to teach me about in my standardised public schooling".