The Hill

So, there he is, our host the middleman, pointing out some of Edinburgh's highlights to a captivated (or possibly just captive) audience from atop Craiglockhart Hill. We took a fairly bracing hike up there this morning to get us kickstarted for a few Festival shenanigans - we hit the Royal Mile for a bit of, ahem, 'street entertainment' (actually middleman and I had wandered off to a quiet quad beside the Cathedral to avoid an orange-haired escapologist and ended up watching a ghost tour, a fashion shoot and a (small) gathering of Columbian sailors - it really was all going off in Edinburgh today), Beck and I dragged Katie and the middlelady to see my colleague's son's one man show at the Underbelly in Cowgate before we reconvened for a meal at Zizzi's and then we sent Beck and the girls back home whilst the remaining three of us went to Sufjan Stevens' excellent gig at the Playhouse. I wasn't actually going until Wednesday this week when our ever-vigilant host managed to secure a late-release ticket for me for what definitely seemed to be the hot-ticket event of the weekend. I'm glad he did, too. A really good gig. He even played that weird serial killer song that I like so much...