Alison's Diary

Aug 3 2008

Lifestyle

MONDAY

Delighted to be invited to co-host this year's Great Scot awards. I've been involved with the judging panel for eight years and this event is the most wonderful chance to celebrate our unsung heroes. The lovely Jenni Falconer, right, will be co-hosting with me. I haven't yet put in a bid to be as far away from her on the podium as possible to avoid us looking like the before and after of the Slim Fast diet. I am trying to stick to salad but there is something about these wild, windy, wet and foggy days that make me want to eat pies. Louis and David are going camping tomorrow for two nights in Perthshire. It's the first time Louis has gone and his rucksack is full of clothes. "Boys don't change much when they're camping," Dave tells him, which puts an even bigger smile on his face.

TUESDAY

Wave the boys off at 7am as I get into the shower. Louis has even packed a pillow - that boy doesn't know hardship. He is more interested in food provisions than anything else. They have a wee stove, a wee pan and, I suspect, a slim chance of eating as Dave, left, is hoping to cook the fish they catch. I had bought a couple of burgers to put in their cool bag but optimistically or foolishly - we will see - they have left them in the fridge. But that's fine as my pal Dynamite is staying with me tonight and we're going to watch the taped Dragons' Den, eat burgers and stay off the wine.

WEDNESDAY

Woken up at 5am with rain that would be more at home in a monsoon. Immediately I have visions of the River Lyon swelling and sweeping my two boys away in their tent. I text Dave but there is no signal. I wait with bated breath. Keep busy to distract myself and head to the vet with half-dog, half-Womble Flora, right, who I think has something stuck in her nose. She is nasally prodded and the verdict is she has kennel cough, which is rife in Edinburgh. I take the old snuffler home and put her on the couch as I wait to hear from my two windswept, starving, wet boys.

THURSDAY

Still no word from the campers. I am so used to several silly texts a day that even my hair is clenched. I'm walking down the road worrying when a cheeky young lad shouts: "Hey, looking for a toy boy?" I say, laughing: "No." He replies: "Oh, would you like a chip then?" The charm of the young. Singer Coreen Scott and writer Andrew Dallmeyer join me on my radio programme to talk about their new Fringe production The Battle Of Pots 'N' Pans, aka the 1745 Battle of Prestonpans. It lasted about seven minutes but the victorious Scots partied for a fortnight. The play, a modern take on the battle, sounds great. See it at St Cuthbert's Church, Edinburgh, starting tomorrow.

FRIDAY

It's the Edinburgh Jazz And Blues Festival so two of the Dizzy Gillespie All Stars (one's pictured) are on my radio show. They claim to love the city despite the fog and damp this week. Half way through the show a bloke rushes into the studio to test the alarms. Tom is a regular reader of this column. He asks how I do so much but I tell him if anyone wrote down what they do in a week they'd be surprised. As he leaves, I spot three firemen in another studio but it's a drill. Girls pretend to faint, hoping to be carried out, but the guys see through them. I know what to get Dave for Christmas.

SATURDAY

Had a reunion of Aberdonians last night - all the folks we hung about with when we were teenagers. We were thick as thieves in those days and we were in the pub from 7pm until 1am. Seven of us live in Scotland, one in London, one in Hong Kong and Dave the bass player came all the way from Guildford on his motorbike. I was impressed with everyone's stamina - especially mine - but not so much this morning. Having sworn off wine, gin is getting my custom these days. My first drink was a double then the kitty kicked in so I assumed I was getting singles. But I wake with a head like a bag of bolts so it seems there wasn't much tonic in any of them. I lie still but it still feels like I have 76 trombones in my skull. Round to mother-in-law's tonight for a Chinese carry-out, which is ideal. We sit in the garden, eat the food and have a good laugh. Early night and looking forward to feeling fresh tomorrow.