And so it starts

Bit of a back blip because I am so tired from my 'away day' on Thursday. Thursday night I got home just before 11, 'tired and emotional'. I'd had a 20 second conversation as I was waiting to get off the train with a TA soldier in the Royal Logistics Corps. He had the ISAF badge on and was getting home after 6 months in Afghan. His wife and 2 teenage daughters were waiting on the platform with a huge banner' Welcome Home, Dad' . As I walked up the stairs (the late train always comes in at one of the old 'subbie' platforms) he was locked in embrace with his wife. I don't know why, but I just choked up with tears. Why? Maybe because deep down inside I really am more worried about #1 son and his safety than I let on. Maybe because I no longer have that kind of family - no more family hugs for us.

The taxi driver was unimpressed with the traffic . Apparently it had been gridlock all evening, the effect of traffic diversions (trams etc) and the Tattoo starting. I got home in time to hear, and see, the end of performance fireworks. They seem higher this year as I could see more of them above the odd side of the road and they certainly woke the seagulls.

I couldn't sleep when I got home. After 11 hours out of 15 on moving vehicles my body just kept 'moving'. Sleep was a long time coming, I even got up in the middle of the night for a shower to try and relax me.

However, I did manage to be up and out before 9, in the sun, to spend a day in Scotland's People's Centre doing D's family history. Fascinating stuff - many dead ends. Aberdeenshire farm folk have a high level of illegitimate births. I made the mistake of looking up my own latest record - and there it was, in black and white, somehow more chilling, and real, on the screen that the piece of paper I've stuffed away in the boxroom, out of sight, out of mind.

The sun didn't last and it was cloudy, but warm, when I left and made my way up to the Royal Mile to get my Fringe tickets. How can 3 days make such a difference? When I was here on Tuesday morning at the Tron it was a normal street. Now, the Fringe has arrived in all its glory. The performers, mainly students, are out in full force handing out fliers, the tourists are thronging the road and barriers closing roads and diverting traffic are on stand by.

Stopped in past Peter Green's for the regular Friday evening wine tasting and a chat to the regulars about the Fringe, mainly how to navigate the programme. This being Marchmont Gerda Stevenson,' Scotland's best actress', popped in after rehearsals and a preview for a glass of wine, a chat with M and to make sure there were plenty of fliers available. Sounds good. Think I may go.

Spent the evening slumped in front of the TV, avoiding the Olympics which is very difficult given the BBC's decision to swamp us with them. The fireworks were earlier tonight. I caught them just before I collapsed into bed.

It is going to be a marathon 4 weeks - work, househunting, Fringe events and another trip to London to fit in, Bedlam indeed!!