The Rehearsal and the Edinburgh Tattoo

Two light tanks sit demurely at one end of the parade ground, facing three blue plastic chairs drawn up to a plain pine table at the other. There is not much of an audience - a scant row of civilians, and those largely Army families.

'Gentlemen, there are seven minutes to go. We shall start on time.' Hearing the Tattoo Producer's calm, authoritative voice no outsider would believe that his show still does not exist as such, even though it is to be witnessed by nine thousand spectators tomorrow on the Castle esplanade. Barely thirty hours remain before the public dress rehearsal in which to weld the countless disparate elements into a polished performance. Today we shall see the beginning of that process, the so-called 'working dress' rehearsal. The individual acts, of course, are already well practiced but only now will the production team establish whether anything is amiss with the overall design of the show. One wonders what goes through the Producer's mind in the last minutes before rehearsal.

'"What have we forgotten?" basically. Are there any unforseen problems? And is it going to run to time? We simply must not overrun, especially on Saturday when we have limited time between performances. Anyway, people have paid for an hour and a half and that's what they should get!'

The Producer takes the middle seat at the table, flanked by his Narrator (to his right) and (to his left) his Personal Assistant. Also seated, the Lord Provost of the City of Edinburgh casts an interested eye over the proceedings. Precisely at two o'clock the pipes and drums march on. Some are in civilian clothes, most in drab khaki, camouflage denim and the odd splash of tartan - 'working dress'. For this is the parade ground at Redford Cavalry Barracks in Edinburgh's south-western suburbs. Painted onto the tarmac is a full-size plan of the Castle esplanade complete to the last detail. The only thing missing is the unforgiving slope; the fourteen foot drop of the esplanade makes any parade or drill in front of the Castle a ticklish exercise. That apart, it is all here - the arena one hundred and six paces by forty three, wider at the top than the bottom, the main entrance (the 'Castle drawbridge') distinctly off centre, adding further complexity to all the formations.

At Redford Barracks all the Tattoo moves can be rehearsed precisely and in sequence. Now is the time to sharpen up the action, give the dull a final polish and perfect the dressing. Here the Arena Master comes to the fore; he is responsible for marshalling all the Tattoo's forces on the esplanade, ensuring everything flows smoothly under the lights and behind the scenes. He draws an analogy: 'In rehearsal you can tell everyone what to do, but once they march out in front of an audience . . . well, it's like pulling the pin out of a hand grenade - chuck the grenade and there's nothing you can do about it going off'