Edinburgh

While not technically a part of the African continent, Edinburgh is an obvious stop when you think about it logically. So, with hopelessly directionless meander from one far-flung Heathrow terminal to another, I arrived in Edinburgh's swanky new 'I'm the capital of a nearly independent country' airport.

The differentness of the familiar never hits as hard as it should. But one thing did strike me as we drove south towards Peebles - despite the late hour it was light, a perfect summer sun shone over the evening hills, as if switched on by the Scottish Tourist Board, making ludicrous my parents' claims of having endured the worst summer ever. Hadn't every day had been like this?

It's always rather pleasant to stroll through Peebles, the river Tweed gushing its shallow water and numerous ducks through the town towards first the border then the sea. This is real small town life, where most people seem to know half the people they meet on the high street and butchers and bakers are still family businesses. Add to this a nice line olde stone buildings, meagre traffic and a public library (oh the joy of such an establishment after five years' absence!) and life seems pretty good in such a place.

I managed to get up to Edinburgh twice for a dose of the festival. I love Edinburgh at festival time, the gracious buildings plastered with gaudy posters, performers accosting you on the street to persuade you to come to their show later, dozens and dozens of student-types trying to out-whacky each other but mostly achieving more tacky than whacky in their bid for attention and audiences. There's plenty of good stuff to see, and I was lucky enough to see John Hegley at the Pleasance. I'd loved his show five years ago and this was just as good. His chat and poems had me chuckling aloud, the humour intelligent, spot-on and always delivered dead-pan dry. Check him out at: http://www.johnhegley.co.uk/networds/docs/poemdeterre.htm

Hiking over the hills somewhere near St.Mary's Loch reminded me that the UK isn't all dismal at all. This is a beautiful area and I enjoyed joining the 'Ramblers' for the day, especially up on the tops where the moorland looks so big and empty, the shadows of clouds scud rapidly over the heather-covered hillsides and the ground is boggy enough to absorb the unsuspecting hiker up to his thighs. Like all good walks, this one ended at a country pub where I enjoyed a drink or two with the lads while the old and/or ladylike went off to a caff for tea. Hard to believe that it's probably ten years since I last met these guys... makes me feel much older than any of them looked... anyway, they're a damn fine bunch and great company. Lesson for life: stick with the beer-drinkers.