Thursday 21st August 1808

Never draw your dirk when a blow will do it. Anon.


Money is flat and was meant to be piled. Anon.


Him that keeks throu a keyhole micht see what will vex him. Anon.


Mony a mickle maks a muckle. Anon.


That's a fine caber you have there, my good man. Will you show me how you toss it? Wayne Austen..

Dear Diary,

The carriage was empty until Ecclefechan whereupon a kilted fellow entered and sat opposite me with legs akimbo and distracted me from much of the verdent scenary thereafter.
"Och, ye see that purple bit?" He asked and I was quite flustered for a moment, as I could see it very well, but then I realised he was referring to the heather upon the hillside and I tittered in relief and dabbed my brow with my handkerchief.
"Do you know bigger?" he asked and my heart leapt again. I was contemplating how to prevaricate when I noticed a sign for 'Biggar' and I realised once again I had leapt to the wrong conclusion.
"No," I offered succinctly which served to answer his own enquiry and the one I had misunderstood. He swung out at 'Biggar' and my breathing relaxed and I was able to enjoy the scenery of the Pentland Hills and the entry into Edinburgh.
Once again the streets were teeming with Thespians plying their wares but I resisted their temptations for I had affected an itinerary of mine own and moved with purpose through the throng.
My first diversion was an arty piece centered around the thoughts of those who model for portraits, indeed they were naked, but it was all for Art.
Isn't Art fabulous? I truly love Art.
Next, I found myself in an ornate room with an enormous organ, which I would very much have liked to get my hands upon but sadly it was not included in the admission. The drama that unfolded was, as expected, amusing but also, unexpectedly moving, about the life of the celebrated colonial matron, Jean Rivulets.
There was further amusement to come in the presence of the leather kilted raconteur, Craggy Hillocks. He was rather probing with members of his audience and being seated upon the second row I was close enough to reach out and touch his sporran but sat in dread that he should probe me. In private I daresay he could probe me all he desired but in company I fear I would have clammed up.
The evening came on apace and the heavens opened and I scurried onto a drama entitled 'The adventures of Buttboy and Tigger'. I forget why I had first been drawn to this piece but very much enjoyed it as it played out. It concerned the correspondence at a distance between two sensitive fellows and how they came to meet and I was quite moved by it.
I ended the day deep in the underbelly of the city, almost in a place akin to those haunted vaults I had experienced upon my last visit. The entertainment was entitled 'Spank!' and continued into the early hours. I enjoyed short sketches and amusement from a variety of fellows, and indeed from some Canadians, though one almost made my ears fall off with his virulent 'humour.'