I decided on Sunday to take a wee walk around town to drink in the joyful atmosphere marking the last weekend of the city's world-acclaimed late summer events. This is a time of year when Edinburgh allegedly doubles in size. With the influx of visitors comes a need for similarly increased infrastructure to feed, bed and water (I mean alcohol) the seekers of culture, be it high, or by evidence of some of this year's offerings, increasing cases of low intellectual activity.

This year's big idea appears to be musical tribute acts, involving performers punning either on the name of act they have chosen to ape, or famous songs by said artist(s). For example, and I paraphrase, Time Waits for No One. Featuring an accomplished performer, no doubt, but hardly ground-breaking stuff. There is also the opportunity for entrepreneurial types with their finger on the trend pulse to make a 'bob or two', especially, it appears if they are purveyors of Scottish themed tat…

We began our journey in EH10 by bus as Daisy demurs to walk northward and has to be taken by other means out of the locality. It is a dog-controlling-person thing. Companions of canines will understand. I had bought my sandwich from a local shop and after busing it toward town, Daisy and I alighted in Lothian Road. We had lunch seated on the steps of Usher Hall. Opposite us was the Lady Boys of Bangkok tent, which was pumping out techno beats to the approval of what appeared to be a highly excitable audience.

It was only on finishing my sandwich and canned drink that it dawned on me and I remembered. For the last week or so, the refuse collectors, using a fair element of savvy, have been striking, during a critical period for Edinburgh's commercial calendar, as they pursue a decent inflation balancing pay increase. I say good luck to them, however, it was presenting me with a dilemma. The bins were overflowing, there was spillage and discarded trash lying adjacent to almost every rubbish receptacle in view. I was stumped for a minute and then 'eureka', I had it. I used one of the bags I carry to pick up Daisy's discarded matter. I scooped up the rubbish, tied the bag in the familiar manner I would when collecting the dog waste for disposal, though this time placed it in the tote bag I was carrying, for disposal back at home.

As I recall this, my mind has again drifted to the possibility that I might have a go at pitching the combined dog and lunch disposal waste sack on Dragons' Den. In perfecting my spiel, the only real flaw and limitation I can see is that it could be used in combination only if the first event is the lunch leftover disposal.

Rubbish piled up on the streets has allegedly scarred the Edinburgh visitor experience, leaving guests with a feeling that they have been at the centre of unbridled chaos. When viewed in context of the plethora of big tops and speigletents dotted around the town, many emitting music until the wee small hours, we may in time be looking back on this year as a 'Summer of Disco Tents'.

Frank Eardley



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