It felt like the first real summer's day. Probably not a great idea therefore to go to the lunchtime lecture on Ian Hamilton Finlay. Still it was only 45 minutes, I thought - before Alec Finlay his son, who was doing the talk, managed to extend it (by tedious repetition and settling old scores with critics) by a full 30 minutes. Held up, I went with E, an auld pal, to have a lime and soda at the Fruitmarket sitting beneath Kiki Smith's Neon Bow (above). That was enough art for me for one day so afterwards sat out in the gardens reading.
Later, went to see The Disappearance of Alice Creed. As review geezer in the Observer says, a taut psychological thriller: violent, visceral, and claustrophobic, reeking of sweat and desperation. Fabulous.