I chuckled at the article in the Times newspaper by a journalist who thought he was going to a performance where the front row was reserved for Volvo owners. It conjures up all those tired old jokes about Volvo drivers wearing their hats. Seems he’d misheard or misunderstood the booking criteria for the front line positions; Vulva owners, not Volvo owners!! His piece was very witty in the spirit of the Festival. 

However I, the proud owner of a vulva, can tell you that there’s no way I’m sitting in the front row. I have a pathological fear of being singled our for the spotlight. Yes I know I’m a party pooper, but then I don’t really need any positive discrimination or special privileges in the form of front row seats as a consequence of my vulva either. Besides, I’m sure the front seat position, would cause me post traumatic stress requiring extensive CBT (that’s Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, by the way). 

Maybe I haven’t faced up to my problem and need to address my fears. Oh dear, perhaps I’m on the way to working up a comedy show for the 2024 Fringe. It seems that putting yourself out there in very private ways is the thing to do. There must be some benefit to it – catharsis perhaps? Whatever, It could be more fun than CBT.

• On the final days of our holiday, I sat in the front row at three musical recitals. I realised that my fascination with the virtuosity of musicians’ hands is greater than my fear of being singled out. Anyway they were far too busy with their performances to bother me. 

• The comedy I chose was an all women show – definitely a gender bias there. As a  precaution, I sat in the second row. It was well, funny as…. A Volvo owner in the front seat.  Go girls!!