The morning’s exercise found me going clockwise around the volcano and N pottering about among the crags at the bottom of Arthur’s Seat. No idea how long it took me to complete the circuit, but I felt I could’ve held my own with yesterday’s soldiers on this bright and sunny morning. I flopped onto the dewy grass and got my breath back; before the month is over, I will do this run twice and get up to 10k. I’m pleased with yesterday’s 32 mins. Would’ve been quicker if Baker’s Adagio hadn’t come on the iPod shuffle.

Lunch at Jamie’s Italian (though I’m pretty sure he’s really from Essex). I was expecting a too-expensive chain restaurant, and was completely taken aback by the amazing building, fabulous food and likeable staff who managed that neat trick of being pleasingly informal without simultaneously useless. The building has been (I think) smartened up rather than transformed, keeping plenty of character and ambience. The food was all fresh, clean, tasty stuff, and the waitress, Hayley, either knew everything, or has the most plausible manner. We could’ve asked the tomato farmer’s inside leg measurement and she’d have told us. I think hers was one of the best performances on the Fringe. After the delights of Fifteen in Shoreditch, and the recipe for huevos rancheros, I am prepared to forgive Jamie Oliver for anything – though so far he’s done nothing to require forgiveness – and I can only recommend Jamie’s Italian with wholehearted enthusiasm.

Up the Mile with N to see the sights and the wide variety of human life. Then back to Holyrood Park with cake and wine for a sunny mini-picnic on top of a crag, interrupted briefly by a parquor enthusiast who managed, in all of the circumscribed wilderness of the volcano to clip N with his toe. Parquor risks looking like showing off, and this chap was particularly guilty. N also got a chance to practice Japanese with a passing tourist, who unaccountably asked if we were Spanish.

In the evening, to Stephen Amos who pulled astonishing food out of the unfamiliar Aga in the house he’s renting. I got plastered and sat at the piano with Tom Allen, turning pages while he played Bach, and stretching my fingers over half-remembered Elton. Lots of PR people from Australia, Nigel and co from Bound & Gagged, Lisa White and family from Glorious Talent – all a lovely mix of good people, conversation and a lovely end to the day off I realised I needed.

    Everything is Purple resumes!
    5-25 August (not 14 or 21) at 22.10
    Venue 63 – The Dragonfly, West Port
    PBH free fringe
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