So bad am I at self-promotion that not only have I not mentioned on this dusty old blog that I’m performing at the Edinburgh Fringe this year, I don’t think I’ve even mentioned that I’ve been doing stand-up comedy. But I am, so that’s cleared that up.

I’m not planning to do a day-by-day reportage of my showbiz Embra lifestyle (last night I was out until half 11 and knocking back diet coke like there was no tomorrow, and there was a tomorrow and I know because that’s where I am now) but that’s how it will begin because it’s all new and shiny and I have tiny anecdotes to share.

I travelled up on Wednesday – that’s the eponymous Day 1. Using my special geek powers, I procured for myself an advanced purchase first class ticket at a very reasonable price and sat back on the train while the nice people from National Express East Coast poured free food down my gullet at regular intervals. I must’ve had 25% of the ticket cost back in complimentary meals. I didn’t even need dinner later on.

My best laid plans to use those four-and-a-bit hours of the journey to do something productive – read a book, revise my set, listen to podcasts, write material – failed completely. I flicked through a free copy of The Independent, completed 65% of the crossword, listened to my iPod on shuffle and sat back waiting for the next delivery of gratuitous grub.

Within two hours of arriving in Edinburgh, I’d seen five people I knew, including meeting a friend who lives in Edinburgh in the queue for the very first show I’d booked. That says less about my dubious connectedness and more about the nature of the Edinburgh ecosystem.

I have rather overdone going to see shows the first few days here but they’re in preview and therefore much cheaper. Using my awesome spreadsheet skills (all right, so I can’t do pivot tables), I optimised savings and did a bit of critical path analysis to allocate shows to the optimum days for the most efficient use of time. In doing so, I saved £45 off the full price tickets, although this was slightly undermined by putting one of the carefully planned shows in my calendar for the wrong day and missing it. C’est la vie.

What I learnt today: Central Edinburgh is loud. Where I’m staying is loud. Sleeping is hard.

Recommended show: Colin Hoult’s Inferno

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast, 2.35pm weekdays and Saturday 20th at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at the Amused Moose Comedy Awards Showcase at the Pleasance Dome, 4pm on August 17th (book online).

What did I get you for Christmas this year, the internet? I got you a YouTube Advent Calendar:

In retrospect, committing to a song a day was a bit dumb when I didn’t have any already written (ah, preparation) but finally it’s complete. 24 songs written and recorded. Pick a door and watch a video. Many of them are funny. Most of them are intended to be.

In my opinion, the best ditties are on days 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 18, 20 and 22. And if you’d like the chose by title, rather than by an arbitrarily-assigned number, there’s a playlist on YouTube.

Despite the surprisingly exhausting level of effort required, I’m glad I did it. But I’m even more glad it’s over…

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I have precious few minutes before 2010s National Poetry Day ends. This years theme is apparently home, so without further ado here, as every year, is a new poem.

The frosty wind is blowing
The bus is only slowing
The traffic isnt flowing
The Tube train isnt going
The RMT are crowing
Im not to-ing and not fro-ing
My blood pressure is growing

I want to be at home

I’ve had my excited genealogist head on the last few days (it looks a lot like my normal head, but a bit beardier). The reason is that Ancestry, one of the big online record publishers, has released scans and a search index for the National Probate Calendar, covering 1861-1941.

This is the index to wills and administrations from the Principal Probate Registry. When someone dies, their estate has to be disposed of. If they left a will, one or more executors are appointed to carry out its instructions. If they died intestate, an “administration” is granted and, again, executors divvy up the estate. This legal process is recorded in the Registry.

The index can be used to request a specific will from the records, but even without this the information held is of great interest to family historians. An index entry generally gives a date of death, last residence, executor and their profession (often the next of kin), and the value of the effects of the deceased.

Not only does the new index place this information online (I used to visit First Avenue House in Holborn to search the records which wasn’t exactly convenient when I lived in Scotland), but it also provides a digital index, massively speeding up the search process.

There are plenty of reasons why a search might not turn up a result: many people simply didn’t have the assets to warrant it; early on, wives’ property was considered to belong to their husbands; and the indexation is by no means perfect.

That said, I’ve already found lots of relatives in the new data. The extra information compared with death record indexes means you can be surer you’ve found the right person and I’ve been able to (excuse the morbidity) “kill off” a number of people.

There were a couple of records that took me by surprise, however. In both cases, it was the identity of the executors that was unexpected.

My first cousin, four times removed:

GIBBS Emmanuel of Thanksgiving-lane Binfield Heath Oxfordshire died 2 May 1938 Probate Oxford 6 July to Martha Ann Gibbs widow the right honourable Godfrey Walter baron Phillimore and the honourable Anthony Phillimore lieutenant H.M. army. Effects £624 6s. 5d.

Quite why three executors were required to handle the assets of a deceased bricklayer, and why two of the executors should be the 2nd Lord Phillimore and his son, are beyond me at the moment.

My first cousin, thrice removed:

ROBINSON William Thomas of Foxhil Wanborough Wiltshire died 1 July 1918 Probate London 9 October to Frank Curzon theatre proprietor. Effects £15556 18s.

Frank Curzon was a successful Edward theatre manager and William Thomas Robinson was a race horse trainer, with no obvious connection to the theatre. But Frank Curzon’s Wikipedia page notes he bred race horses, including an Epsom Derby winner, so that seems the likely explanation. And yes, £16k was a lot of money in those days…

You can search the probate indexes here, but I suspect you’ll need an Ancestry subscription to look at the scanned pages.