Diary – 27 August 2015

There are many good reasons for being in Edinburgh in August, when the population doubles and nobody looks twice if you walk down the street in a sequinned basque with a man dressed as a leopard on a leash. One of those reasons is a certain kind of lunch — an assortment of natives augmented by visiting actors, writers, journalists and any other good talkers who happen to be passing. And so to the elegant New Town flat of journalist Katherine O’Donnell with campaigner and memoirist Paris Lees, actor Rebecca Root, novelist and journalist Ben McPherson and human geographer Jo Sharp. The first question is, of course, ‘What have you seen that’s good?’ Because that is the only question on everyone’s lips during the festival. We’re all desperate not to miss the good stuff, and with getting on for 3,000 possibilities, the only way to be sure is word of mouth.

So I head up to the book festival for my first visit of the year, head brimming with possibilities. My first encounter is with the best-read man in the Borders, literary editor Stuart Kelly. The most tense time for any author falls immediately before publication, when you have no idea how your book will be received. I practically fall at Stuart’s feet when he reveals that he’s just finished my new book, that he loved it and, even better, he’s reviewing it. Now I can stop feeling faintly sick.

I walk through early morning streets full of people dragging suitcases and small children, before the madness proper begins. It’s a three-tier asylum, the city centre. The Royal Mile is al fresco insanity, Princes Street determined chaos, George Street a more measured throng. As I walk, I make the calculation of every Edinburgh festival day.