Despite having lived in London for most of my life – and being a huge fan of dancing and drinking in the street – I’ve never been to Notting Hill carnival. Instead, for the past seven years, I’ve spent August in Edinburgh, either performing or working at the fringe. Admittedly, last year was my first “fallow” year – a time for the farm (my body) to recover – but I still visited for 10 days at the end, unable to accept the fear of missing out of unjust reviews and posters of comedians scratching their heads.
The first year I visited, I lived in a flat with 20 other students. At some point during the month, a couple of people moved out, so I got a cupboard all to myself. It was heavenly. I had always wanted to do comedy, but didn’t know where to start – all I knew was that Edinburgh was where it happened. So I applied for a job giving out flyers for an improv group, and after an hour of not giving out any, I politely resigned.
One evening, I read David Nicholls’ book One Day, because our flat was a few streets down from Rankeillor Street, where the first chapter is set. The next day, I kissed a boy in the middle of the afternoon, and we walked around blissfully for hours hand in hand. By the time the evening came, I realised that he was terrible, so I told him I wasn’t feeling well, gave him my number and left. I got about 20 missed calls from him that night, asking if I was feeling better and whether I was coming out. Luckily, I didn’t need to call him back because I bumped into him in the street at 4am, both of us with new partners, him in disbelief, and me oddly angry that he had moved on so quickly.
Another night, all 21 of us hurled ourselves down Nicholson Street with our water bottles of pre-mixed rum and coke. We went to Spank!, the famously raucous midnight comedy show, and heckled the headline act. I’m not proud of it, but we’re friends now, so I’m sure it’s fine.
I was desperate for comedy to seep into me somehow, convinced that being surrounded by it would give me the confidence to go onstage myself. I saw very few people who looked like me, and even fewer of them were doing what I wanted to do, but I was determined to embed myself in what felt like the centre of the universe.
This August, I’ll be performing my third solo show at Edinburgh. And although I find it quite cringey to be overly sentimental, I can’t deny my excitement. I think of the festival as a summer camp, a second home – one where as each year goes by, I start to recognise myself in both my audiences and the other performers – and that endeavour to feel as if I belong becomes a little less difficult.
Lolly Adefope will perform her new show, Lolly 3 at the Pleasance Beneath at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe this August.
