Bebe Cave on the good, the bad and the cringeworthy elements of Edinburgh

As she prepares to return to the Edinburgh Fringe, Bebe Cave talks about her festival routine, recalls her most embarrassing experience there, and shares and the worst thing about the Fringe.

Edinburgh Binge

I will be binging on pastries from Mòr Bakehouse pre-show, and slices of pizza from £2 Pizza Slice post-show. 

I am performing my third solo show at the Fringe this year, and one of the things that keeps me level and connected to a reliable energy and happiness source is this almost daily routine that orbits around these wonderful culinary establishments.

 I love the quick, efficient service and the no-nonsense decor. I feel comforted by the floury sweet smells, and the sound of tourists and street performers outside on the busy street. 

It’s so easy to get into your own head at the fringe, and having familiar touchpoints like these can reset that. 

The peace begins with a very quiet morning in my rented room, an important chance to align with my inner artist (read: an opportunity to watch TikTok in solitude). Then the peace continues with a crisp walk from the Meadows, and I’ll start thinking overtweaks I want to make in the show based on yesterday’s performance.

I feel the energy of the city radiating more and more with every step closer, and though I try not to speak to anyone to save my voice (I tend to lose it by week 3, I’m a vocal weakling) instead I try and smile at as many people as possible, like we’re long lost friends wishing each other well before a long important voyage at sea.

 I may also hum or do some vocal/facial exercises on the walk as well, so to be honest I probably look mad and/or pretentious as I flex my cheek muscles. But I’ve got my headphones in, I’m not paying attention to that! 

I listen to the playlist I’ve curated for my show, which tends to be on theme for the characters and settings. Last year I listened to a lot of 70s medieval revival folk music. This year, I’m listening to the Cocteau Twins and sounds effects of water. Whatever floats your boat, as they say. 

Then I’m at the bakehouse and after a peruse of the goods, I sit and savour every layer of flaked pastry. It’s a joyful privilege to have a pastry every day. Life doesn’t really get better than that. The 20K-plus steps I walk per day in Edinburgh really soften the blow of this indulgence. I feel stronger and braver after, like a warrior eating before battle. How can I be scared of anything when I have just eaten a sausage roll? It doesn’t have to make sense to you, that’s okay. 

Then it gets to 5pm and it's time to click into my brave, mad persona for the show. Afterwards, once my set is packed away, and the sweat has been patted off, and I’ve had a half pint of beer (another important part of the ritual), I wander to £2 Pizza Slice for my dinner, both cost efficient and DELICIOUS. These binges are my ritual for keeping my sanity during the month.

Edinburgh Cringe

I cringe when I think of the unrequited crush I developed here at my first time at the Fringe festival in 2012, having just turned 15 years old and still yet to kiss a human male. 

I was performing a show called Bookworm with my big sister Jessie, where we played very geeky bookclub leaders who were more or less based on ourselves. It was very quirky. It was 2012, we loved that shit! 

I flyered on the Royal Mile every day in my show costume, a neon green T-shirt embroidered with neon hot air balloons, and 80s high-waisted pink shorts that Cut Off just above my knees. And plaits. Sort of like if Rugratswere making a live-action remake, and they had gone way too old with the casting because of child labour laws. 

Anyway, I found a little spot I liked to flyer at every day, in front of a pub on the left side of the Mile, and very early on in the month a sort of routine started, with regular characters popping up in the same places every day. The performers who took the space directly next to me were an all-male university acapella group called Out Of The Blue. They wore blue t-shirts, and they all had long floppy hair, and they sang. A lot.

My hormones went wild. They took turns with solos, but the boy who entranced me most was the soloist for Don’t You Want Me Baby by the Human League. He had curly blond hair, and warm but sad eyes. He seemed, at least spiritually, Irish. Heaven. 

He was quite unassuming when he was just flyering, or doing harmonies in the back, but when he sang his solo he burst into vibrant Technicolor. A complete dreamboat. He had a soft sort of 80s glam rock energy in his performance style, he was very flirty with the crowd of people on the street watching, he really pounced around and gave it flourish. When I saw him standing there every day, laughing with his friends, close enough to touch, I actually felt physical pain in my heart. Oh to be a teenage girl going through puberty at the biggest arts festival in the world. 

I was literally electrified to see him every day, and I made sure that I got there at the exact right time so I wouldn’t miss his solo. He smiled at me warmly once or twice, I think maybe I asked him about his show once, but it was too loud and he didn’t hear me, and by the end of the month I had fantasised so many different scenarios where he might talk to me, ask me my name, or come and see my show that it was a mini obsession.

I always came up with really cool responses in my head, ‘Yeah, I’m like a ‘comedian’, but I dabble in some tap-dancing…’ really cool Bebe, really fucking cool. I pointed him out to my sister and she belly-laughed. She explained that he was an adult man, and I looked like an overgrown baby. It would never work. Heartbreaking. 

He never properly spoke to me, and I never got the courage to go up to him and profess my love. Thank god, actually. But I think of him fondly, a ghost that lives in this city and wishes me well whenever I’m here, and that’s still one of my favourite songs to this day.

Edinburgh Whinge

I don’t want to whinge, as I think it’ll jinx my luck. I’m quite witchy these days, and if TikTok tarot readers and overpriced crystals have taught me anything, it's  that you have to protect your own peace despite the whirlwinds around you.

Okay, if I HAD to whinge about ONE thing, it would be that it's sometimes hard to find accommodation to stay in in Edinburgh during the month that isn’t insanely overpriced. Or dusty and filled with students. Or a scam. Maybe I’m biased, as I have just fallen victim to an accommodation scam this year. 

To be fair, it was too good to be true, a great price for a double room with an ensuite bathroom, and 15 minutes from my venue. Yes the landlord was a bit eccentric over WhatsApp and kept mentioning his horses. Horses that he has in horse shows, his favourite hobby, to be specific. Fancy. 

And that he understood my concerns about the lack of  verification I’d received about the property, given he hadn’t included his HMO licence number in the contract, a fact that smarter people than me seemed to be worried about, but he couldn’t actually send the video of the flat today, as he was flying to Dubai, to a horse show. 

Of course! Yes it was odd when he then asked for the second half of payment to be sent to a different account as ‘my account has compromised and I have lost a large amount of money so the account has been frozen until the police and bank can try to recoup the money! My apologies for the inconvenience!’ 

I questioned this. He didn’t respond well. 

Yes it was also odd when I finally got him on the phone and he frantically explained that he is very busy, given his job as a solicitor, and he was actually currently in court, and he had taken a break from court to speak to me about my concerns. 

I asked him about why he had his account compromised and he explained that he had been scammed out of £100,000 but it was no big deal because he had many properties, inherited from his father. He was slurring his words and definitely didn’t sound like a lawyer. 

I lost my temper and said I was worried this was a scam, and that he sounded drunk. He screamed at me, he was very offended, and so I cried and explained that I’m just stressed about the Fringe, and then weirdly we settled things on a rather wholesome note, with us both apologising and him saying he would never betray me, and that he thinks I should be proud of myself for putting my artistic voice out there in the world, as performing is a very brave thing to do. 

I thanked him. I left things for a few weeks in vain hope. He changed his WhatsApp profile picture to an incredibly generic picture of a horse, probably one of the first ones that come up when you Google search the word ‘Horse’. I got verification from various authorities I had been in contact with that he is neither a solicitor nor registered as a landlord. I lost my money, and I never heard from him again. 

It's OK though, I have found somewhere else to stay, and I think I’ve gained a new fan of my art.

• Bebe Cave: Swoon is on at the Pleasance Dome at 17:40 from August 5.

Published: 20 Jul 2026