As Hopkins and I sit on the airy patio of our palatial accommodation, partaking of instant tea and breakfast plum bread, our thoughts turn to Thompson and his relentless search across swathes of Southern Scotland, for the perfect night’s repose. Our thoughts turn, too, to the successes of yesterday’s Fringe Sunday, which saw us take our 20th commission. Hopkins appeared on stage, Thompson found a use for his technical expertise, and I enjoyed an encounter with Mackenzie Crook. But the highlight of the day, heralded by the cheerful tring of a fire bell in the meadows, must be the excellent cup of tea served to us from a beautifully restored fire engine. As we don our Butlerial apparel, we wonder what a new Edinburgh day will bring.
Fletcher the Butler