The Edinburgh International Festival and Fringe Festival are now reaching their climax. The Fringe alone features 53,884 performances across 3,649 different shows in 258 separate venues. The city streets are crammed with fire-eaters, acrobats, magicians, musicians, dancers etc. etc. all doing their stuff. While world leaders like Trump and the like can think only of the domination of others, destruction, hatred and cruelty, it’s good to be somewhere that knows how to celebrate life and creativity. If you have never visited Edinburgh at this time, do come here one year. But be sure to book your accommodation early!

Also keep reading about Tommy’s misadventures and please consider taking out a paid subscription. It’s cheaper per month than a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. It would help me more than you can possibly appreciate. Thank you.

Warm greetings from the coolest festival city,

Ron

Glossary

Tanner: slang for sixpence, a small silver coin that was worth 2.5 pence

Bovver boots: ‘bother’ boots, rather like Doc Martens and often weaponised with steel toecaps

Previously in The Diary I Didn’t Keep:

Toolie Towers has been taken over by Cassie’s friends whom Tommy discovers are Nazis. He flees, grabbing his poems and his sock of cash. However, not until he is safe on his getaway bus does he realise that he has grabbed the wrong sock!

Now please read on:

THE DIARY I DIDN’T KEEP 43

‘A tanner.’ A coal-black guy, looming over me. Only an inch off banging his head against the bus ceiling. Upstairs he’ll be skimming the roof.

Fumbling in my left pocket, then my right. ‘Sorry, man. It’ll be in here somewhere.’ Giving him a hopeful look.

The clippy shakes his leather bag. ‘Do me a favour? Been a busy shift.’ He lifts out a handful of coins and releases a silver-and-copper cascade. ‘Give me a ten bob note and you’ll get your weight back in small change.’ He laughs. ‘Make my day!’ Nice guy.

Still fumbling: ‘Sorry, man, sorry. It’s here somewhere.’ I start going through my jacket. I’m getting the hard stare now. The grin’s gone, so’s the nice guy.

‘No tanner, and the next stop’s got your name on it.’

So that’s me dropped off in the middle of Nowheresville, a spot on the globe that’s put me a good mile further from my sock than I was before getting on the bus.

Fucking Nazis, fucking Cassie… Two weeks ago I had enough bread to keep me on easy street all summer. Nothing to do but write poems, get myself wired into the peace-and-love scene and have a lamb biryani every night if I wanted. Rent-free mansion of my very own for three months… And now? No money, no mansion and no fuck-all. And it feels like rain’s about to come on. An April shower, let’s hope.

Crash on Andy’s floor? A hard hour’s slog there at least, but – But shit! It’s Friday night. Receptions, dinners, weekend house parties, you name it. Chances are he’ll be out and about pampering the rich, pouring His Lordship’s drink, running his pre-dinner bath, laying out his jim-jams. Bound to be.

Which leaves me... fucking nowhere. Not got my sleeping bag even. Trek back to Toolie Towers – and fingers crossed my bedroom window’s still open? Two secs and I’ll have my sock plus sleeping bag, toothbrush, Karamazov and –

The first few drops are real clockers, like the rain’s clearing its throat before really getting started. You’re an April shower, remember! I want to shout at it. But wait... why get myself wet? I’m always being told I should learn from experience. OK, so I will. I cross to the other side, and start back to Toolie Towers, a quick glance over my shoulder every few moments.

And here it comes! Another bus and – fucking right on! – no clippy in sight. Must be clipping them upstairs. I get a seat, relax.

But not for long.

‘Any more fares? Any more fares?’

Don’t look up. Maybe he won’t remember that he hasn’t given me a –

Small bald guy, and thin, bus-ticket thin. He remembers all right. ‘Where to?’

‘Ealing Common, please.’

‘Sixpence.’

My cue to get fumbling. Left hand into the jeans. Remember last time? No rush. ‘Tanner, you said?’ Playing it cool this time, playing it slow.

‘Sixpence.’

Seems I have an audience. Two girls opposite in ringside seats. Nice-looking, too. Audience on my side will help lift my performance. Arouse enough pity and awe to –

‘Sixpence, I said. And today, if you don’t mind.’

‘I’ve got it somewhere.’ Right hand into the jeans. Glancing casually towards the rain that’s streaming down the window next to the girls. Nod and a half-smile, taking in my audience. ‘Some night, eh?’

‘For some, maybe.’ Easy to see Ticket-Thin can’t wait to give me the bum’s rush.

The girls giggle. Says one, ‘If he canna pay, will you throw him off?’

‘Rules is rules.’

More giggles. ‘He’ll get wet.’

‘Real drenched,’ says girl number two. Not so good-looking now.

Ticket-Thin ignores them. Reaches up for the bell...

... and that’s me out on the pavement again. Getting rain-lashed. Perfect timing, though: the stop’s right opposite the ‘Star of Bengal’. I cross over for a strong blast of curry, enough to get me home. Better be some crisps and pork scratchings left – I’m starved.

Ten minutes and a soaking-to-the-skin later, and – fucking hallelujah! – the bedroom window’s still open. My sock and tonight’s biryani are now within reach. Haul myself up, elbows on the windowsill, and am about to –

Light’s come on. Fuck. Lowering myself quickly but silently. Head down, crouched just below the sill. Holding my breath. Rain’s easing, thank fuck. Risk popping my head up for a second. See Cassie and the Yeti, who’s carrying what looks like a chair leg.

Cassie: He must’ve gone out the window.

Yeti: I knew it. That commie haircut’s a giveaway. He’s a fucking spy.

C: You think?

Y: Needs educating. Me and the boys are planning to sort out some commies, hippy longhairs, rastas and pakis. We’re gonna educate them (firm swish of the chair leg).

C: You mean –?

Y: Knock sense into them. And when we’re back, I’ll be so fucking high you won’t know what’s hit you!

My fingertips are starting to slip.

Y: Kimmel and all his King-Arthur-Camelot crap. Man’s a dreamer. It’s time someone real started doing real stuff. A bit of kicking and cudgelling. (Another swish of the chair leg.) While I’m running the stormtroopers, you can organise the chicks to – What’s that?

Shit, it’s me, staggering back after losing my grip on the sill.

C: Cat, most likely. Garden’s overrun. Now off you go. Your stormtroopers are waiting.

Y: Time for a quick –?

C: You still here? Off I said!

Sound of a door closing.

Next moment, Cassie’s at the window. ‘Tommy! What are you doing out there?’

‘Getting wet. Let me in… and I’ll explain.’ But explain how? Fuck knows, but at least I’ll be nearer the sock. I climb inside.

‘Where have you been?’

‘I... I... phoned the police.’ What the fuck am I saying? Doesn’t matter. Just keep talking, keep edging nearer the sock drawer.

‘The cops? You phoned the cops?’

‘They’re sending a Black Maria. Be here any minute.’

‘You don’t like my friends, so you’ve put the fuzz on them?’

‘They’re fucking Nazis, Cassie.’ Drawer’s almost within reach.

‘No. They’re little boys, the lot of them. They like dressing up in uniforms, marching up and down, waving flags and –’

About to wrench open the drawer, I can’t help turning to face her full on: ‘You heard the Yet– heard your friend Bob. He likes beating up anyone who doesn’t look like him, speak like him, or think like him.’

‘So do plenty other people.’

‘Him and his fucking stormtroopers.’

‘You’re so naive, Tommy. You really do need educated. You want Bob and his friends to educate you?

‘No, but –’

‘Anyway, if you had phoned the police, they’d be here by now.’

She’s right. Focus, focus. Get the sock and get out.

She steps nearer, and smiles. ‘I approve of education, Tommy, as you know.’ Suddenly it’s a very sexy smile. ‘I know you’ll be a very quick learner.’

One part of me is, for certain. I can feel it stiffening up already. She’s wearing a blouse with buttons that start only below the bust, the upper parts held together by some kind of lacy knot.

‘Lesson one. Couldn’t be easier. ‘ She holds out one free end of the lace thread. ‘Yes, a most willing pupil, especially in my hands.’

Pull the end and I’ll be unravelling more than the bow. Inside I’m screaming: Get the sock and get out! But somehow the lace thread is already in my hand and –

The door’s thrown open. The Yeti.

‘Rain’s stopped. That’s me and the lads heading out to educate them.’ He waves his chair leg in the air. Notices me, ‘You again!’ He marches straight up to me. ‘Are you with us, or against us?’ He’s so close I can feel his spittle and could join up his blackheads.

‘I’ll count to three. One...’

Cassie: ‘I don’t think Tommy’s quite –’

Too right I’m not.

‘Two... He can learn, can’t he?’

Quick glance – I’ll never reach the window.

‘Three and…’

‘I’m with you! I’m with you!’ With twenty pairs of bovver boots waiting out in the hall – steel toecaps and all, most likely – what the fuck else can I say?

‘You’d better be. Let’s go.’

‘Be with you in a sec, just need clean socks.’

‘You what?’ He thrusts the chair leg into my hand.

‘I can bring the blunderbuss, if you want. Take a moment to get it. I’ll catch you up.’

‘Next time. Tonight’s a warm-up, just some kicking and cudgelling.’ He picks up the poker from the fireplace and gives it a couple of practice swishes. ‘Let’s go, I said.’

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Tommy here. This is the season when many of us endure as best we can the sun’s 35C glare and return home to discover our fridge-freezer has packed up due to motor burn-out, leaving behind the vilest stench and a two-drawer sludge of rotted food. Ron’s wife took charge of the clear-up (five binbags’ worth needed lugged down the sta…

Read more

Apologies for this instalment being a couple of days late. Still on holiday, I have discovered that the Continental Heat of Europe really slows me down. Normal service will be resumed in due course. Please note: no instalment of The Diary I Didn’t Keep uses AI. I wouldn’t know how to do this, nor even want to. Ever. I promise.

Read more

I am writing to you from the heart of a blistering heatwave in Switzerland. So, let’s relax and return to a time when the weather was more clement and the politicians saner. On our behalf, Tommy, it seems, is still living the dream.

Read more

Tommy here. Ron, my faithful amanuensis, has requested that instalment 41 be held back till next time. In its place, I have been exploring his archives.

‘The…

Read more

It’s been a particularly difficult two weeks for Tommy’s amanuensis, but thanks to our hero’s insistence and my wife’s encouragement, I have buckled down and kept going. Thank you for your likes, comments and continued support. They mean a lot.

Read more

Several people I know have opted to stop watching the news on television, saying it makes them feel utterly powerless and depressed. Which is doubtless the intention. Tommy hopes his misadventures bring you cheer and a moment’s pause to glimpse better times, both then and now.

Read more

Tommy here. My amanuensis Ron and his family have had a particularly stressful and exhausting week. However, a glance at the forecast promises better weather is on the way, at least. Which always helps raise the spirits, especially in Scotland.

Read more

I first wrote much of the dialogue in this instalment in Scots, which is how I heard it in my imagination. Knowing that most of you are not native Scots speakers, however, I realised the glossary would be too lengthy and too intrusive for online reading. When the novel is eventually published in book form (here’s hoping!), such di…

Read more

Sorry for the slight delay. It’s been a thoroughly stressful week for our family, involving much trouble and strife with government bureaucracy. I’m exhausted. We’re both exhausted. On the plus side it’s been a real relief, when time allowed, to chronicle Tommy’s further travails in the mid-sixties. I hope you too will enjoy spe…

Read more

With the weather being the way it is and the world situation likewise, I hope you are continuing to enjoy Tommy’s adventures set in less threatening times. If so, please feel free to mark a ‘like’, write a comment or even take out a paid subscription – less than the price of a cup of coffee and a scone per month (£6; or £60 annu…

Read more

I hope you are all well and enjoying the warm and sunny weather.

Last instalment’s error was that I forgot that the Yeti, having entered the house via the base…

Read more

I hope you are all well and enjoying the springlike weather. It raises our spirits.

On a film set, ‘continuity’ ensures the salient details of a new scene are …

Read more

Some of you have suggested that Tommy, if nothing else, is an irrepressible ‘trier’. His teenage energy and enthusiasm firing on every cylinder seem to power him through his bad days and disappointments. He is like a young country where everything is still possible. As his amanuensis, I relish my visits there to take down my daily…

Read more

As winter continues to provide us with days that are cold, sunless, wind-battered and rain-lashed, I hope you’re managing to enjoy Tommy’s retreat into the luxurious warmth of the Institute. Back then, I certainly did.

Read more

Sincere apologies for today’s late posting. 1001 reasons, including my cannot-postpone-it-a-moment-longer tax return. Tommy doesn’t pay tax and has been blithely dictating his misadventures right up to the wire. We had words. He shouts the louder, and so my tax return still awaits completion...

Read more

Happy New Year! I wish you all the very best, and that 2026 will be peaceful and kind to you and yours.

I hope you are all wrapped up well as you’re reading th…

Read more

Tommy joins me in hoping you all had a very cheerful Christmas, and we send you our best wishes for a happy, healthy and above all peaceful 2026.

For festive r…

Read more

I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you Merriest Festives and the very best for the New Year. Let us hope 2026 will be peaceful for us all. Tommy adds a big thank-you for your following his adventures and, like you, wonders what his next year will bring. He encourages you to consider doing a ‘like’ or leaving a comment. Alwa…

Read more

We return to Tommy’s adventures this week. I gather that Lily was an acceptable stand-in. If needed, she says she is willing to step in another time. We’ll see how my recovery progresses. Meanwhile, thank you all for your patience and understanding.

Read more