Could this year's Edinburgh Fringe be my last Edinburgh Fringe? It's a question that has been bubbling around in the back of my mind for the last few weeks. There has to be a last Fringe for everyone. Could it be this one for me? Have circumstances conspired to make it my farewell Fringe?

I can clearly remember my first Fringe. It was 1991. I was a punter. I'd only heard of the Assembly Rooms on George Street so that was the only venue I went to. And I only saw the kind of acts I'd have seen in London in a club on a Saturday night. Marks Thomas and Steel, Jeremy Hardy, Norman Lovett, Arnold Brown. That kind of thing. Probably no female stand-ups at all. 

What sticks in my mind was the struggle to find somewhere to stay so somethings never change. We'd driven up from London. Can young readers out there imagine a world without airbnb? I was eight years away from getting narrowband. We literally drove along roads with B&B signs knocking on doors.

Eventually we found somewhere just past the Commonwealth Baths at an exorbitant....£27 a night. Thanks to Google I can work out exactly what the date was. August 19, 1991. Because we woke up in the morning, turned on the TV and Boris Yeltsin was stand, maybe wobbling a bit, on top of a tank. It was the day of the Russian attempted coup.

 

For most of the 1990s I had a job at Time Out in the TV section so I only went up at the weekends, jumping on the fast 3pm train on Friday (3 hours 59 mins!) and returning at dawn on Monday morning and going straight into work. Not sure I could manage that now.

Try telling the kids today about our luxury accommodation and you'll get a combination of disbelief and sheer envy. As I recall – I find it hard to believe myself now – Time Out used to rent an entire Georgian Townhouse in the New Town for the duration.of the Fringe. Most of the time it was largely empty - occupied by just a theatre critic or two and comedy critic Malcolm Hay. I'd cadge a bed at weekends and then a few of us from the TV section would come up for the TV Festival at the end.

It was absolute luxury. If we wanted to venture further afield than the New Town/Assembly Rooms we hopped in a cab. I must have been doing it all wrong, my expense claims were never turned down for being too high. I remember a group of us getting a cab across town to a bar that had been recommended. We walked in, one of the theatre team turned their nose up so we walked straight out again and got back in the same cab that hadn't even pulled away.

I'm sorry if there isn't much about comedy here. Sometimes the things that stick in my mind are the things around the comedy. A scuffle in the Assembly Rooms member’s bar involving a comedian who went on to be a household name. Relaxing in the grand sitting room of our house eating a takeaway and watching David Beckham score that wonder goal from the halfway line against Wimbledon. August 17, 1996. Thank you again Google.

 

But of course there was comedy too. I was on the Perrier Awards panel a number of times such as when Jenny Eclair and Lano and Woodley won the award and later when Daniel Kitson broke through. What happened in those meetings stays in those meetings but needless to say there were some very strong opinions and very heated arguments. But by hook or by crook decisions had to be made by early Saturday evening to beat the deadline to the result into the Sunday papers. Different times. 

And, as I suggested, it was different times accommodation-wise too. This year I'll be staying in student accommodation and my expense account just about covers my train fare to/from the Fringe. No cabs, I'll be bringing my trusty, rusty bike with me to negotiate the cobbles. I've done that for a few years now. I haven’t drunk for a few years either. I must be the only person who leaves Edinburgh fitter and healthier than when they arrived.

As has been well-documented elsewhere the costs of having a roof over your head during the Fringe have, erm, gone through the roof. Another reason why this might be my last Fringe is that having to pay for my own accommodation for two weeks after I move out of the student block this year will mean it’s the first time I go to the Fringe and make a loss. For the first time perhaps I'll feel how countless acts feel. If only I'd known I was going to be coming here for more than 30 years maybe I'd have bought a flat here myself in 1991.

So all sorts of things have transpired to make Edinburgh less appealing. Here's a small confession. The Fringe was perfectly timed for me to get away from my young children during the long summer school holidays and skip parenting duties. But now they are no longer at school, or even at home, that's not an issue. I'm not all bad though. In the days when I had decent-sized digs my kids did come up for a while and they loved it too. My youngest was terrified by seminal clown Les Bubb, while my oldest had a bit of a crush on Bo Burnham.

So as I sit and think about what the next month has in store I wonder if it will be my swansong. Except that then I glance at the programme. There are brilliant-sounding shows from Sarah Keyworth and Rose Matafeo, Sarah Barron and Chloe Petts. Even a few funny men in the mix. The comically macabre Frankie Monroe. Gilet-wearing Stuart Laws doing a show where he says the word "Never" repeatedly for an hour. As they say, only at the Fringe.

Do you know what? Maybe this won't be my last year after all. The Fringe has a remarkable ability to evolve. Maybe even regenerate a bit like a comedy Dr Who. Looking back on my early years it was so different. And yet in some ways just the same. There's always something new and exciting to see. There's always some controversy. On second thoughts how can I possibly stay away? I might end up in a tent on the Meadows next year, but somehow I think I'm going to be back.