Imagine being kept awake at night by cannons (tethered one hopes, and not loose.)This is the fate that has befallen J, my long-suffering spouse. For the last few months he has been doggedly commuting to Edinburgh first thing on Monday, returning on Thursday.
He is well known at his hotel of choice and they know his little preferences: extra bread, a beer voucher instead of a free bottle of wine in the room, etc.
Unfortunately, the Edinburgh Festival means that J has no chance of getting a room at his favourite hotel. The rates have shot up, and, every night for a month, the Edinburgh Military Tattoo gets going with those cannons.
