Now, I’m no stranger to an unexpected detour on my delivery round. I’ve ended up in the wrong foyer more times than I care to admit, once tried to usher myself into the stage door queue, and still occasionally wave at people who are very much not waving back.
But this week? This week was a first.
While having a quick rummage through the satchel (and by that I mean checking the website stats between cuppas), I noticed something rather exciting: a sudden flurry of visits to Theatre Village… from China.
China!
Now before anyone panics and checks their passports, let me reassure you — no, the Edinburgh Fringe hasn’t secretly relocated to Shanghai, and no, the international acts for this year’s festival haven’t been released quite yet. (Though given the Fringe, I wouldn’t rule out a mime troupe turning up with ten minutes’ notice and a suitcase full of flyers.)
Still, it did make me smile.
Because the Edinburgh Fringe, at its heart, is international. It’s a glorious, chaotic showcase where artists from all over the world pile into Edinburgh with suitcases, dreams, and an alarming number of posters. Some arrive with sold-out runs behind them. Others arrive with hope, a venue at 10.45am, and a very optimistic press release.
So if a few curious eyes from further afield have wandered onto Theatre Village recently — whether they’re theatre lovers, drama students, future Fringe performers, or just passing through on the digital equivalent of a flyer run — you’re very welcome.
You’ve arrived early, mind. The Fringe line-up will land when it’s good and ready. Until then, feel free to have a nosey around the UK theatre scene, discover a panto you didn’t know you needed, or fall down a rabbit hole involving jukebox musicals, regional tours, and the occasional postie getting overexcited about a cast announcement.
The theatre doors are open. The kettle’s on. And if you’ve come by accident… well, that’s how half the Fringe audience ends up there anyway.
Who Is Andrew “The Guvnor” of Theatre Village?
(As delivered by Grace Hatchell, 2nd Act Couriers, First Class & Slightly Nosy Service)
Now then… if you’ve spent any time wandering through Theatre Village, you’ll have felt it. That hum. That buzz. That sense that somewhere, behind the curtain, someone’s pulling the strings, brewing the tea, and making sure the spotlight actually turns on.
That, my lovely lot, would be Andrew.
Or as I’ve taken to calling him… The Guvnor.
Not in a scary, “don’t cross him” sort of way—no, no. More in a “quietly building an empire while everyone else is still reading the programme” kind of way.
I’ve seen him, you know. Not always in plain sight—he’s not one for centre stage—but always there. Watching. Tweaking. Thinking. Probably got about ten ideas bubbling away at once, and another five already halfway out the door.
Theatre Village didn’t just appear overnight, you see. It’s been stitched together bit by bit, like one of those proper handmade costumes—threaded with passion, a bit of cheek, and a genuine love for the stage. Not the flashy, red carpet side of theatre… but the real stuff. The fringe. The underdogs. The ones pouring their hearts out in tiny venues with dodgy lighting and big dreams.
That’s where Andrew’s eye is.
He’s got a knack for spotting something special before the crowd catches on. A show tucked away upstairs. A performer giving it everything. A story that deserves to be heard. And instead of just nodding along like the rest of us, he builds a whole blooming platform for it.
And let me tell you—this village? It’s not just for show. It’s growing. Expanding. Streets being built, doors opening, new voices moving in. He’s not just writing about theatre… he’s creating a place for it to live.
Bit clever, that.
Now, he won’t say it himself—far too modest—but there’s graft behind it. Late nights. Early mornings. Probably a fair few “what am I doing?” moments along the way (haven’t we all, eh?). But he keeps going. Keeps building. Keeps believing there’s room for more stories, more voices, more magic.
And I like that.
Because in a world where it’s easy to shout about the biggest shows with the biggest budgets, Andrew’s quietly making sure the smaller ones don’t get lost in the post.
(And trust me, as a postwoman, I take that very seriously.)
So if you ever find yourself wandering through Theatre Village, just remember—you might not see him straight away… but The Guvnor’s there. Somewhere between the lines, behind the scenes, keeping the whole place ticking along nicely.
And if you listen carefully… you might just hear the next big idea being scribbled down.
Now then—
I’ve got letters to deliver, gossip to gather, and probably a biscuit waiting for me somewhere.
See you round the Village.
— Grace
