Leaving Scotland, home of the brave and the bearded

I've dedicated all my readings this weekend to Tony Wilson. Becasue many people had been at the festival a while they didn't know he had passed.  "He was a lover of words." I said from the stage "he loved words. He used to take them to bed and shag them". It's apt that one programme I did with Tony was called The Other Side of Midnight. Last nightI did the reading in the tent in the meadow. I was the final person on stage of a rolling rostar of poets over two days. My slot  was from 11.40 until 12 midnight – the witching hour. Perfect for poetry. Just before walking on stage a  shooting star flew across the sky. I kid you not. It was like a slash of white on a wet black oil painting.   It  was the night of the meteor shower. I was reading poetry to a rapt appreciative  audience under a meteor shower.

Afterwards myself Michael the sculptor  and his girlfriend the teacher  went to a verycool amricn diner type  café, drank latte ate and watched the drunken festival goers lollop past the window.  Edinburgh is over. I have learned a lot from this excursion about a  new set of poets that I'll call shouty boys. Enough of that. I’m catching the train and though i only slept at 3am I wake at 5am to catch the 5.50am   travelling from Edinburgh back to Kings Cross. When I looked out of my hotel window this morning I saw  a  smatter of bearded men  drive past on the cobble street.  The wheels on the cobbles sounded like a subdued drum roll. I was waiting for my taxi. Ahh Scotland I thought, home of the brave and the bearded. My hotel was apparently next to a mosque and they were going for morning prayers.   

I spent time on the train putting the final touches to the article for the guardiantomorrow. It’s finished and as if by the power of magic I can shoot into the future and give you a link to it here. Back to the future click here for the article.What is fascinating are the comments that run after the article.  Home is waiting for me. For the rest of the week I will be at The South Bank as I was last week. I am planting my self in the offices as I did  each day of the previously week.  I'm dripping in art at the moment, swimming in the stuff, doing the backstroke with the sun on my face.

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