Edinburgh

Edinburgh without the festival just isn't right. It's like going up stairs when you think there's one more step than there is and you thump down on the flat. I should have, maybe did, get used to it over these last few months, but oh the joy to be back at festival time.

The High Street buzzes with a bizarre army of flyer-pushers working their way between tourists, festival junkies and earnest show-goers. Posters are layered over each other by enterprising groups who vie for the safest top-spot by climbing onto shoulders or leaping wildly with broom-handles. On miniature stages, on bollards and the cobbled road, groups perform tasters of their shows. Basil Fawlty and Manuel saunter down the Mile, passing dancers, wenches, pirates, dead bodies, stilt-walkers and a rugby team whose Hakka holds up the traffic. Pluck perform with such a dazzling brilliance that I immediately buy a ticket. The sun shines. This is Edinburgh.

There isn't enough time to see everything I'd like to, but this year I get to more shows than ever. Choose better. Although I still ended up at at least one cringeworthy failure of a show - but then, that's part of the fun.

I found some gems this year: Pluck, Tony!The Blair Musical, John Hegley (again) and Pericles Redux being the highlights. Pericles Redux was the most unusual and mesmerising Shakespeare you could imagine - original text woven into physical theatre that told the story, grabbed you and carried you away. And a few days later I came across the team performing on the street, a vision of topless muscular strength and elegance.

The energy of the festival is heady. Just sitting in the Pleasance Courtyard sipping a drink is like a show in itself.