Another early rise and off to the farmers' market. I was like a packhorse by the end of it, so I was. Every root vegetable that I'd ever expressed a desire for, and a few that I hadn't, was in my bag. But what excellent coffee this man from over the border was making. I had to snap up a bag.
Later, a wee cycle down to the Harbour, dispensing money to the buggers that keep spending it on their pet projects. Floodlights are now being fitted to the famous Bell Block. How have we managed so long without them?
And then, later still, out to Summerhall to see a Withered Hand/James Yorkston/Pictish Trail triple bill. A familiar enough threesome, but a cracking show with much interplay and no little humour. And an interval! But no draught beer?? And then they ran out of Barney's in bottles?? Apart from that, the only downside was Mr Hand's subdued demeanour in the second half and his lack of new tunes. Still, Red Stripe does that to you.