My cast were all delighted about the review. It occurred to me rather belatedly that perhaps they had been rather more apprehensive about the Fringe experience than I had quite realised. I feel I was maybe a bit cavalier with them earlier on the week. Should perhaps have been a bit gentler and a bit less enthusiastic with doling out my usual dollops of sarcasm.

My suspicions were particularly reinforced as I wandered down Cockburn Street with Anthony after another late night in the post-show pub and was ramblingly congratulating him on his giant speeches. And he said he was glad they were ok as he was always terrified that something was going to go wrong. Lesson to be learnt is that I should be a bit kinder to people I don't actually know that well. Perhaps the 'electrifying performances' were born out of fear rather than skilled direction. Still, whichever, it did the job. For the Evening News at least.

On Wednedsay night, fresh from the glory of Les Dennis in the Gilded Balloon library, I lectured them heavily on not letting their concentration wander in the heat of the delirious moment. They all rose to the occasion impressively and delivered a near as dammit perfect perfomance/ Of course it was me that failed them again with anothert UV light kerfuffle. So the romantic fireflies moment was again lost in the gloomy darkness of an un-UVed stage. Though we did get a little more impact in the final dramatic moment. Some consolation.

Last night, I entreated them to leave my work mates round eyed with awe - as my department staggered into the theatre straight from an alcoholic post-planning day Bar Roma pizza fest. And they came up with the goods again. Siobhan - not the most forgiving of critics - appeared to be impressed. So I'm sure my workmates weren't being too fake with their praise. Although they were mostly drunk so can't be taken too seriously.

I need to work out how I'm going to inspire them to greatness tonight.

I feel less nostalgic about the impending end than I did a week ago. I guess practicalities set in. We haven't sold nearly as many tickets as I'd like. I forced myself out onto the streets to flyer yesterday before the show but could only bring myself to part with two (4 stars newly attached) flyers before slinking back to the venue. Perhaps if there had been more attractive people about on the Royal Mile, I might have been more inspired.

I shall miss my beautiful boys. And my artfully crafted soundtrack. (Infuriatingly credited to Iain by Mr Dibden - though I brought this upon myself by failing to credit Ross or myself in the programme.) But poor old Anthony is getting tired out. And Madeleine apparently spent all of yesterday dozing on the sofa. So it might almost be nice to have my life back. Though having said that, I have various shows lined up over for the final throws of the fringe so I suppose I won't feel desolate til I wake up on Tuesday morning.

I've just been to see Venus as a Boy at the Traverse. A brilliant performance and a really sweet little tale. (Though can you die from Hepatitis B? I didn't think you could - and I should know. I must check!) I too had a little teary moment as he appeared in his golden finery at the end.

But then I had that 'back to earth with a bump' moment as I shuffled out of the theatre, surreptitiously wiping my eyes and overheard a sweet white haired lady saying to her friend that all she could think about at the end was how much she wanted to step up and disentangle one of his 'wing things' when it got caught in the mesh of some of the very smartly designed set. This is why I particularly enjoy going to the theatre alone!