Pippa Smith

Waking up at the Edinburgh Festival with a packed schedule of shows and meetings, I reluctantly dragged myself onto a bus to a remote, soulless venue — a community centre — to attend something enticingly titled Shakespeare for Breakfast. The reality was far from enticing: a mediocre, overly long performance preceded by instant coffee in a paper cup. The first words I heard upon entering were, “has anyone switched the urn on?”.