Mercifully and gratefully returned to Edinburgh by British Airways bang on time, and just about to leave for the Book Festival gig.
Didn’t see much of Guildford that was of interest, save passing the scene (always described as ‘quintessentially English’) of cricketers in white playing in the sunshine. I think they were described as Surrey. At the Lloyds TSB office, the receptionist turned out to be from the same part of Ayr as me. In fact she used to work at the golf course that backed onto my garden; part of her job was to chase small boys who would sell ‘found’ golf balls back to the golfers. I gleefully admitted to being one of those small boys, but she declined to chase me around the office, and decided to call it quits after all these years.