These are Yeti Crabs. I had never heard of a Yeti Crab in my life, in spite of studying marine biology as part of my degree, until this morning, when I listened to a superb talk by the Marine Biologist Alex Rogers, based on his book The Deep: The Hidden Wonders of Our Oceans and How We Can Protect Them, at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. These crabs live round hydrothermal vents in the Southern Ocean and have ‘hairy chests’ on which they grow bacteria which they then eat. (They’ve been nicknamed the ‘Hoff Crab’ because of their resemblance to actor David Hasselhoff’s famously hairy chest!) Because they live in the deep ocean, they are blind and pure white. They’re found nowhere else.

We know so little about the oceans – far less than we do about the moon. We have more detailed maps of the surface of Venus than we do of the seabed. There are probably hundreds of species that no human has seen yet – let’s hope we get the chance to find out about them and cherish them rather than carelessly make them extinct…

Well, my first outing to this year’s Edinburgh International Book Festival was memorable…

Of course, they always are, but not usually because of the weather. There I was, with 600 other people, avidly listening to Kate Atkinson being interviewed by Lee Randall, when the thunder started; in the middle distance at first, but steadily drawing nearer. Then the rain began. And the lightning flashed and the thunder and rain both got louder and louder and louder, until Kate and Lee gave up trying to make themselves heard and we all sat, mesmerised, waiting for the tent to float away, or perhaps cave in on us.

Enter Nick Barley, festival director, dripping gently, to announce that all the electrics would have to be switched off due to the proximity of lightning. A few seconds later, the lights went out and we sat there, trying to find the torch function on our mobile phones, wondering whether to stay in the dark tent or venture out into the wet night.

Eventually we all dribbled out, as the rain moderated, to find Charlotte Square somehow managing to carry on regardless, (except that the events had been suspended). I made for the sanctuary of the yurt to console myself with a glass of wine and wait to see what happened next.

The lights briefly came back on (cue cheering), then went off again (groan). The rain increased to biblical proportions. Trapped in the yurt! Oh no! How dreadful! Would the wine outlast the rain? (Fortunately, yes)

What next, I wonder…

Edinburgh. August. The streets are full of… The streets are full. Period. Performers struggle on and off buses with the most unlikely assortment of objects. Will they be allowed on? It’s always an entertaining spectator sport. I once saw someone get on with a full-sized concert harp. They may be dressed as rabbits, aliens,  Roman centurions, Elizabethan courtiers… no one bats an eyelid.

That was one of the thoughts that inspired my first novel The Chaos Clock: the idea that in the middle of Edinburgh in August, no one would notice if time got a bit mixed up and people from the past started appearing.

But whatever they’re wearing/impersonating, they will have a lanyard with some sort of important looking pass clipped to it.

Edinburgh. August. You are literally no-one without a lanyard.

All been quiet here as I’ve been away on holiday in Iceland, a country I’ve wanted to visit for some time. It did not disappoint – what a place!

Reyjavik is a delightful town with some fascinating architecture, from Hallgrimskirkja to the corrugated iron buildings, which sound horrible, but are very beautiful, and come in a wide range of colours…

Then there are the geysers, waterfalls, lava deserts, seabird cliffs, and the thermal swimming lagoons. Not to mention the whales, dolphins and porpoises. And great folk-tales too. Sadly, no pictures of elves, trolls or the truly terrifying sounding Julekatte (Of which more nearer Christmas. Be afraid, be very afraid…)

I will never again write a book that benefits from such a slew of public-consciousness raising as Balloon to the Moon. You can’t move for documentaries, exhibitions, posters and other books. It’s wonderful to have even a tangential involvement, but I’m reaching saturation point with documentaries, however wonderful,  to be honest. BUT… I’m sure I’m not the only person to be in paroxysms of delight at the best anniversary event of all: a special episode of The Clangers! And with added Maggie Aderin-Pocock!! Truly, we live in an age of marvels.

Greetings, Edinburgh Festival visitor. You have just entered the most beautiful, infuriating, unpredictable madhouse of culture in the galaxy. Here are some tips to help you slip seamlessly into the life of the city and avoid passive-aggressive tutting and head-shaking from the locals

The one o’clock gun: The clue is in the name. Every day at 1pm, a very big gun is fired at Edinburgh Castle. If you want to look like a local, don’t duck and look round wild-eyed. Check your watch.

Greyfriars Bobby: Don’t rub the statue’s nose. It isn’t good luck. This is some nonsense promulgated in the last few years. His nose had been black since the statue was erected. It shouldn’t be shiny. Step away now. But not into the road (see Photographs)

Photographs: We understand you want to take lots of lovely photographs and in general we will try not to get in your way, but we do like to be able to walk along the pavements. And do try not to step backwards into the road to get that perfect shot. This particularly applies if you are photographing Greyfriars Bobby or the Elephant House in George IV Bridge. Bus drivers do not like having to swerve round you.

Buses: We have a great bus service in Edinburgh, BUT the buses don’t give change. Really. This is actually one reason why the service is so good, as it cuts down the time a bus spends at the stops, but if you’re not prepared, you will find it a bit of a pest (and there will be lots of passive-aggressive tutting from the natives behind you in the queue). Make sure you have change or buy a day ticket and hop on and off to your heart’s content.

Weather: Anything is possible – sun, all-day fog, snow, vertical wind, horizontal rain – all within an hour. Be prepared.  There’s a reason why the locals dress in layers.

Famous People: You could run into anyone on the street/in the pub/in a queue during Festival time (Steve Martin once helped me carry my daughter in her push chair up a flight of steps in a graveyard…) Natives consider themselves too cool to get excited, so you must pretend you have no idea who the famous person is. Unless you have just reached the front of a long signing queue for your favourite author at the Book Festival. That would just be silly.

Edinburgh is gearing up for the festival season, with the Jazz Festival kicking things off this weekend. When I was growing up I loved festival time – especially the Fringe where, for not very much money, you could take a chance on events by people you’d never heard of, and the Fringe programme was a single fold-out A2 sheet…

As time went on, the programme grew and grew to a point where you had to go into training for weeks just to lift it, the city got more and more busy, and I slightly fell out of love with the whole thing.

And then the Book Festival began and I had something new to fall in love with – an affair that has continued without a break ever since. I went to events in the main Festival and occasionally to the Fringe, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I fell back in love with the Fringe.

The unlikely reason was that my son had a job on a food stall in George Square and when I went to sample his cooking, I was caught up in such joyful bustle that I was charmed. Now I find I look forward to the whole mad month, even though the Fringe programme is now much too heavy to lift at all and the city can seem crammed to bursting point.

If you’re a visitor, see my next post for some tips on blending in…

Today’s snippet of ‘couldn’t make it up’ comes from The Times…

A letter from 1705 has been unearthed in which a baker with a shop near the Royal Mile in Edinburgh complains that his shop is being damaged by his upstairs neighbour’s pet.

The upstairs neighbour, Mr Sever,  is Dutch and his pet is an Elephant.

If you know the tenements in Edinburgh, you should be boggling by now at the idea of it being possible to get an elephant  – even a very petite one – up a set of tenement stairs. Not only up, but down again: the elephant went on to have a (short) showbiz career in Edinburgh before dying in Broughty Ferry in 1706. She was a seasoned traveller, having spent 20 years touring Europe before being rented – yes, rented – by Mr Sever.

There has to be a book in that…

I can’t remember exactly how this happened – blame the wine – but at the launch party for Balloon to the Moon I found myself joking to someone that I have a tattoo done for every book I have published. I don’t, needless to say, but I found myself thinking about what illustrations I might have if it was true…

Hmmm… this one might be tricky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So what tattoo would I have for my next book? Well, that depends on what it is, obviously, but maybe one of these…

 

Happy book birthday to my latest ink and paper offspring, out today – Balloon to the Moon (Big Picture Press) – fabulously illustrated by the amazing Christopher Nielsen and telling the story of how we progressed from the first hot air balloon to the first moon landings – and beyond.

There’s already a lovely revue from the Lancashire Post  here – the first of many, I hope.

It seems incredible that I have such a clear memory of something that happened 50 years ago. Can’t actually believe I’m that old, but I suppose I must be…

Damn.