The Butlers continue to walk the sloping streets of damp Edinburgh, I glad of my purchase of stout wellington boots in the fair town of Biggar prior to our arrival. Yesterday was a quieter day, with the initial flurry of commissions subsiding to a steady stream – up to 30 so far! Hopkins has been treading on my toes by delivering chains of messages. He was particularly pleased to receive a request for service from a wonderfully named Factotum letting agency, and has not been averse to accepting occasional embraces of gratitude in recompense. Newsam is filling his time in documenting the daily activities of the unsung heroes of the fringe – flyerers, big issue sellers and the like. Thompson has now located acceptable accommodation and is developing his role as Butler Technician to the festival. I, with only occasional moments for hot tea and a little light reading, am busying myself with litter-picking and the delivering of fond missives to the famous and not so famous. Mr Merton regretfully refused the proffered Jammy Doughnut.
Fletcher the Butler