No more silver men

Do you know what has been lovely this past week? Being able to walk around in Edinburgh without seeing anyone painted silver. Or blue. Or any 6 foot obviously-rugby-playing blokes dressed only in a nappy and carrying a dummy and a bottle. There has been a noticeable absence of gangs of posh young chaps attired as cleaning ladies, inclusive of pinny, Hilda Ogden headscarf and curlers. No-one has thrown themselves on the pavement in front of me declaring "I die! I die!" I haven't heard any pan pipes. Or didgeridoos. And nobody has tried to stuff leaflets into my pockets (or put them on top of the pile of files I am carrying - grrrrrrr!) because I won't voluntarily take one. No-one believes their entire happiness depends on persuading me to see their groundbreaking performance of Hamlet in medieval Serbo-Croat. In short, the Festival is over for another year. Thank God.