On a beautiful Scottish island golf course two years ago, I was bitten or stung by an unidentified insect. I dropped to my knees in pain unable even to scream.

There are Fringe experiences, folks, in that category but as a playwriting practitioner I have to demonstrate a bit of solidarity, so I'm not saying where I was last night. Just remember when choosing your events, humour is so personal that if you truly want to be lifted out of any kind of gloom, you need to select work you know you'll like. If you want the true Fringe experience, however, you do have to sit through the performances that make you wonder, like my insect did, if you're having a heart attack.

That apart it's been a good couple of days since I wrote on here. Celebrity spotting is well up to standard. I've stood aside to let Jonathon Mills through the gap, (he's the Festival Director). I've spotted Simon Callow at the same concert. I've helped the Membership Secretary finalise Edinburgh Writers' Group's 2010-2011 programme. I've had three discussions with the flower convenor of my Church and two with the florist. Being the Festival, the church is hosting a concert tomorrow night and that means as the week's flower arranger I can't have access on Saturday. That means I have to go round this morning before sharing a glass of bubbly with The FT's Mrs Moneypenny. That means I've got tomorrow unexpectedly freeish to re-write the 3 chaps a publisher has asked to see on the basis of my first chapter.

 I do hope none of you had forgotten this is a writing forum.