All for the want of a nail...

No, I didn't run into the lovliest woman in Edinburgh today. Second lovliest, yes, but not the first. A brunette, this time, but that's another non-story. No, instead, I want to write about another type of frustration... hardware.

God Bless America... the land of the free, home of the brave... and SOME sort of hardware store just around the block.

Today during the show the sole piece of scenery, a stool, shattered. It was one of those inexpensive IKEA deals... good enough to be easily assembled and look good afterwards, but not good enough, apparently, to hold up Andrew Puckett's narrow bum on a regular basis. Being the consumate professional that he is, he didn't drop the line... in fact, I'd not have known anything happened if it weren't for the huge "CRAAAKSPLIT" that I heard while in the booth. I looked up over the booth to see the shattered remains of the piece and Andrew slowly standing, still phyically in character as an old king. What a guy.

After looking at it post-show, I saw what the problem was: the pre-glued, pre-assembled parts collapsed for some reason. Everything that I'd put together, my true fear, held. My pride gave a sigh of relief. No real damage was done to the stool... no split wood, no broken pieces, just weak glue. Nothing four screws couldn't repair to (nearly) as good as new. CERTAINLY, this being an international theatre festival forty years in the running the techs here would have ready access to a gun and a couple of screws.

Oh, no. This is Edinburgh. I had a hellova time purchasing tape and a black marker over here, and I don't think I have written about the two hours it took for me to find a watch for sale. This is far more of a specialty problem.

The space's lead tech asked around and eventually was told that another one of their spaces, maybe, had a gun. Maybe.

We walked a block and down an alley to find that he could not get into the other space... locked door and all. Asking at its box office, he was told that the keys were off and about. He left to find the keybearer and I sat with a book which, fortunately, I'd had the forethought to bring today for the first time.

Minutes passed.

Fortune! The keys were found! He opens up the door, walks in for a bit, and returns with a gun and two batteries. Guess what: Both dead. Well, at least he had screws, right? Well, no... he'd have to look in another space four blocks away for that. He'd have to dig around a bit. Drill bit for a pilot hole so I wouldn't split the wood? Eh... no. Where is a hardware store, or anywhere I can purchase a drill bit? None known. Fortunately I DID know where to find one, if it could call itself that, but it's near our flat, over half an hour's walk away.

Alright... charge the batteries, find the screws, and I'll be back with a bit.

Two hours after beginning the process, and after less than five minutes of work, the stool was repaired. Finally, all of the resources for a simple fix came together into what I would have assumed to be available at each venue in case of emergencies.

All in all, though, this tech I was dealing with was very, very pleasant and seemed embarrassed that these things weren't readily available. He did what he could to help, when, really, probably, he didn't need to.

I just find it amusing that it seems to take so blasted long to find anything around here, even with the locals. This city's been around for what... a millenia, maybe?

That, and it gave me a fun blog post title to work with.