So here’s what just happened to me.

I went into this room, someone turned the lights off, 6 people appeared dressed in strange clothes, they shout, sing and cavort about for an hour, they speak in a language of which I understand not one word.

Someone turns the lights back on. Out I go.

I have absolutely no idea what I witnessed, who they were, what they were talking about or why they were doing it. Zero.

I’m at the Edinburgh Festival.

The show was called Delusions Of Home. That’s all, with any certainty, I can say about it.

I come here once a year. Once a year, for a week or so, I live in the Edinburgh Festival bubble. Different rules apply in the bubble. In the bubble things are either completely fantastic or deplorably bad. There’s no middle ground.

In the bubble you watch spell binding, moving and intensive theatre at 11am in the morning. If you open a broom cupboard someone is likely to introduce a stand up comedian. People can phone you at 11 o’clock at night and suggest a drink. And you can go for out for a drink at 11 o’clock.

If someone phoned me at 11 o’clock at night back home to suggest going out for a drink I’d think they were clinically insane. They would most likely need to take a large flea out of their ear at the end of the call. But here in the bubble, we think nothing of it.

Edinburgh is a handsome city, every which way you look at it, it’s beautiful. It is also one of the most problematic cities to navigate for wheelchair users and people with disabilities. Access at the festival is woeful with nearly 50% of the 50,000 performances in inaccessible for wheelchair users. We need to change that. Bubble or no bubble.