The Scottish Final of the One Act runs yesterday, today, tomorrow in Edinburgh. It's the first time "we've" hosted the final in some long time. 30 years or thereabouts. Approx 130 odd teams have competed across Scotland and now they are reduced to the final eight. There was a definite buzz about the Churchill last night. It seems that all of (dedicated) amateur theatre life has drifted into town and is ready to drink and make merry.

I approached the theatre on the bus. A perfectly timed number 16. The first to be spotter was the adjudicator's silent companion. Always a different adjudicator. Always the same silent companion. I think his name might be Michael. He always carries a plastic bag. Anyway, he was walking in the opposite direction which confused me a bit. But then I saw Nigel trudging towards the theatre armed with a bottle of Coke so that was alright. Then JGH sitting on the wall outside the theatre eating fish and chips. And by the time I hopped off the bus and arrived at the theatre, the number of wall sitters had swollen to Trevor, Andy, Sean and A Man I Did Not Know but did not dare to ask for an introduction to in case I had actually met him thirty times before.

The theatre was much livelier from 6:15 onwards than it would be on a regular theatre going night. Susan bustling around handing out passes to qualify me to take ticket stubs and vend ice-creams. Iain in his lounge suit behind a desk looking anxious and amused as people flooded in to seize tickets. Margaret dear Margaret always so kind. Assorted waifs and strays that I haven't seen for months or years in some cases. Pretty Karen Whytock who failed to audition for Antig and could have been in because she marries in May and not August as I'd feared. Killin Gordon, always a small vat of wine in his hand, swooped in and gave me the kiss of pity. I heard a rumour that we had 3 girls from Orkney in the building.

I felt very dewy eyed about it all. I guess I'm as well to make the most of it as we may not see this again for 30 more years...