Edinburgh, ho.


The train ride beckons (I love the train from London to Edinburgh -- very scenic and dreamy), as does the yurt (will they have reinstated the 10am whiskey? I can only hope...) and the chance to talk about new books with old friends. Last year at the Edinburgh festival I stood on a street corner agog and watched a nine-piece tuba band play Bach inventions. This made me happy for days.

I'm planning to wake up early on Sunday and catch a performance of Macbeth in a swimming pool, or The King and I performed by Siamese twins, or one of the wandering plays that you have to chase all over town. Then there's an outdoor reading at ten, ten minutes of There Is No Dog in what promises to be pouring rain.

It's lucky I like rain. And book festivals. But I do. I really do.