I know, it's taking a long time to get to Skye. But I had to bid a quick farewell to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, which ended at the weekend. Three weeks of theatre, music, art, street 'happenings' and unclassifiable things running parallel to the highbrow international names of the Festival itself, including that old favourite, sell-out 'Puppetry of the Penis' (yes, it really is). Out of these riches I have been to precisely one event, and that was because my daughter was performing in it. Apart from that I've indulged in the residents' favourite sport of 'Festival Grumbling', as normal life slows to a crawl in a thronged city. I think we all enjoy the grumbling - just as the Fringe is the chance for any sort of creative talent (and lack of it, sometimes) to be aired, so we get the chance to indulge the dour side of the Scottish character. Most cathartic.
So farewell Mr Tumnus bagpipe player. Farewell upside down, inflatable purple cow.