The best ever.

Thanks to the thirty-odd Trainspotters who turned up to the Leith Festival programme of tours last week. They were all enjoyable, with good crack going between interested and well-informed people. Some of them were hard-core fans of either Welsh, or Trainspotting, others hadn’t seen the film or read the book. And thanks too to the Dockers’ Club, and Billy Skivington in particular, who always finds room inside, if it’s available, for my party. On Saturday night we had to sit on the steps to the main door, and that was fine too.

I was away for the first half of the week, but my sense is that this may have been just the best Leith Festival ever. But how do you judge that? It’s just a feeling I get. Certainly when it came to the Community Tattoo that traditionally wraps up the week on Sunday evening and sends the packet flying towards next year, was well attended and all done in a good spirit. We had a taste of Ireland, Poland and Italy, oh, and Tulliallan. I had the mike, as usual, and I didn’t realise that the army cadet corps hailed from there. I would have given them a special mention. Mary Phelan and her troupe of girl dancers were a delight, as ever.

Right, back to the book. Problem is, I have to see to the volunteers who visit the crews on the cruise ships that come into Leith. It’s all a joy, of course, but it takes time and it’s disruptive, I can’t get the head down for a few sustained days. I need the killer instinct to kick in!