My dad won't like this

25 May 2005
The Elephant House Cafe, Edinburgh

I bought a better pen, so I'm much happier now. Sadly, I've no concluded that it's not as good as the one I used up, but it's a good deal better than the one I was using in its place.

I'm waiting for two o'clock, as I'm going on a tour of Edinburgh's underground vaults. I've read about them, and I'm curious. Later on I'm going on a 'ghost' tour. It focuses on the city's macabre secrets. I should be good and tired by the time I make it to bed tonight.

The cafe I'm in now is famous. Once upon a time a certain woman came here every day, pen and paper in tow. She wrote a novel in this very room, a story destined to become an international bestseller.

She's too rich and famous to show her face in here these days, but the tourists flock here in droves, hoping to catch a bit of her magic.

If I were a better writer, I'd surely come up with a better way to end this post than by telling you that I'm thinking about getting my hair done.

But I'm not.

Or at least not now.

I guess there really is no magic here.