It doesn’t seem that long ago since I walked through the doors of the Edinburgh International Book Festival back in August 2014, but here I am 52 weeks later, doing just that. A fantastic deja vu that I don’t want to end.

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The bright yellow sign beckons me in with a knowing glance. Yes, I will spend the next two weeks here and yes I will buy more and more books with every visit. And I will read and blog and eat cake. Lots and lots of lovely cake.

As a writer, this is my home from home. My go-to for everything literary and my one chance of the year to be among my kin for more than a daily workshop or weekend conference.

My favourite place.

My family bid me farewell, knowing that they will only see fleeting images of me over next few weeks. They are fine with it though as they know I am safe within its confines pouring over my latest new treasure and occasionally I will come up for air and meet up with fellow procrastinators. Only as long as I brush my teeth before I head out and I’m home before dark. They are also wise to the efforts I make to hide my purchases on my return to the mother ship. I try to discreetly place them in the ever growing to-be-read pile behind my writing desk but as my school reports used to say – I must try harder.

You know where I am if you need me.



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