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It’s mid-afternoon, and yet only now do I realise that today is in fact Thursday, not Friday. 😳

Drying out (figuratively and literally) in Redditch, a new town with a shopping mall at its centre, surrounded by a ring road built to confuse the motorist. Plenty here to excite the likes of Kevin Turvey.

I love a good wedding, not least one in which the live music is provided by an uncanny David Bowie tribute act that does a sideline in Larry Grayson impressions. Bizarre. Anyway, congratulations Lewis and Sarah!

Held my first session mentoring another designer today. Felt good to pass on the fruits of 15 years experience in the field.

Now, pay attention, 007…

Boarding the 15:30 LNER service to King’s Cross signals the end of my week-long adventure up north. Returning inspired and invigorated, thoughts turn to when I can make a return visit.

Emil Nolde’s colourful expressionist work appeals to my aesthetic sensibilities. Yet his anti-Semitic views and support for the Nazis (who deemed his art to be degenerative) make him hard to admire. It’s that age old quandary; can you separate art from the artist?

Out of five backpacks emerged a story about loss and acceptance, told via the fantastically analogue medium of shadow play. Touching, humorous and inventive, @TheBackpackEns’s The Search for a Black-Browed Albatross was an unexpected joy.

The Edinburgh Fringe is a victim of its own success. With so much on offer, audiences face a paradox of choice. Sat in a coffee shop at the Pleasance Dome unsure what to see, I was given a spare ticket to The Search for a Black-Browed Albatross. Problem solved.

Walking west along Princes Street, I make my way through the throng of festival goers and find myself drawn to the sun drenched Old Town and the cragged rock upon which the castle sits. A squeal of train brakes emanates up from where once was – and seemingly could still be – a loch. There are few places quite as architecturally, topographically and culturally rich as Edinburgh. I love this city.