Today

Up at 5, you can't be late for .... Evan and Jim.

I didn't get to sleep till after 2, because I was afraid I'd sleep in. Out at 5.30 and across the Meadows on a beautiful morning. It was funny going off to an event, passing people who were on their way home from one, not to mention the whole group of chattering young folk 'camped out' near to the Ladyboys.

By the time I got to the BBC@Potterrow there was already a queue, I was #106. The gates opened at 6 and then we were corralled in the cafe area (no coffee though) for about 40 minutes before we admitted (by number order, very organised) into what Jim Naughtie called 'a nightclub'. I love being at live radio shows. It is fascinating watching professionals at work, linking everything seamlessly. James Naughtie in Edinburgh, Evan Davis and Neil Sleat in London, Gary Richardson at the Olympic park and Brian Taylor in Glasgow - wow. In Edinburgh we had Anna Magnusson, Jo Caulfield, Simon Callow and Liz Lochhead and discussions on Scottish independence, defence, economics and culture. It was great fun, livened by the sound of the empty bottles being emptied into the dustcarts - crash, bang, wallop.

It was all over at 9 and the sun had gone behind a cloud. Chilly!! After a coffee and a Danish it was home to send some postcards to the SPS and then back down the road to meet LeeAnne and Troosers for a lovely, long lunch at Jamie's Italian 'back door'. It was great people watching, and in LeeAnne and Trooser's case, people snapping. The one person who passed that I knew was Helen, ex Greenbrae, down from Aberdeen to 'do' the Festival and the Tattoo. Strange that.

I wandered home, through the overwhelming crowds, and then had a siesta until Lesley phoned to make arrangements for another Festival jaunt.

I've ditched the tomato plants on the landing (red spider mite did for them) and caused a bit of a flood. Hey ho.

It was a lovely evening - but dark by 10. The nights are fair drawin' in.
And those jets for the Tattoo - Typhoons from Leuchars and Tornadoes from Lossiemouth. The formation of 4 is being reduced to 1, Porty thought it was being bombed.

Now, of course I'm too awake to sleep. That's life.