When Dickens wrote about “best of times / worst of times” he wasn’t talking about Edinburgh (well, to be honest, he might have been, my English lessons at school extended back as far as Orwell and Camus, with some Shakespeare thrown in, just in case we actually started to enjoy ourselves). Anyway, where was I? Edinburgh is (bear with me here) two cities in a sense – the tourist-infested centre and the less-than-salubrious areas a stone’s throw away.

With a castle on its main street it’s a magnet for visitors year-round, but add the biggest arts festival – or festivals – in August and the streets turn into something resembling Delhi or Mumbai – the tiny ancient streets and closes a sea of people moving at glacial speed, making all an easy target for distributors of flyers for their “ephemerally challenging one-woman-show that offers a new take on life itself”.

The Royal Mile is worst – formerly a place to catch buskers and odd performance artists, it now boasts stages ‘Sponsored by’ the major banks (good to see they’re spending our money wisely) and the timetabled and fully-advertised performance slots are regimented to within an inch of their lives. Little wonder that the locals pack up and ship out, renting their flats to anyone daft enough to pay their sky-high fees.

It used to be (when I was a teenager) that we’d make a few trips through to Reekie, take in as many shows as we could afford, then retreat home to the sanctity of God’s Own City. Then, I lived in the city for a couple of years, and found that the best option was indeed to take our holidays to coincide with the influx of arties and worthies.

However, there are always worthwhile shows, if you can be bothered to wade through the chaff, and indeed wheat, and can afford what seem like sky-high prices for some of the major performers. So it was with some trepidation that I decided that this year, I’d make the effort to spend some time in the capital.

Anyone who knows me or reads my various websites won’t be surprised to learn that I kicked off with a gig, part of The Edge festival. The Unwinding Hours were magnificent, no surprise there either.

I’d been doing radio shows (I say radio – webcasts to be exact) at FreshAir.org.uk (sample playlist), each of which began with a mad dash from work and a sprint from wherever I’d dumped my car to get to the studio. The first of these included an interview and some live music with MJ Hibbett, and it such was the sense of fun that Mark and Steve exuded in their chat with me that I had to go and see the live show Dinosaur Planet.

This was my Big Day Out – a whole three shows to see (there was also an exhibition, apparently, of the work of Bernard Szajner at the Forest Café, but I managed to completely forget to go and see this). So, after killing some time, next up was Amoeba to Zebra. This is part of the Free Fringe – Hibbett’s show was part of the £5 Fringe and brought in a decent enough audience, but the free aspect obviously appeals even more. Looks like shows are the way ahead.

The same applied to John Otway in the evening, with his Really Free Fringe (see what he did there?) gig. I would implore everyone to see him at least once – he was on form this time round as he usually is – but would have to temper the oft-made “and make him a star” plea – it can only lead to trouble.

The festival is of course ‘arts’ based… and while the whole Edinburgh experience is divided up into fairly neat compartments – you can go see comedy, theatre, music – the twain (er, thrain?) rarely meet. However, in our favourite Edinburgh venue (its karaoke lounge notwithstanding) something very strange is stirring. Instruments of Darkness is an ‘event’ hosted by Edinburgh Printmakers as the last night of the Art Festival, and this made for a very long and actually quite uncomfortable night (in many ways, not least because my knee was giving me gyp). Headliners The Frankensteins eventually won through, but I do prefer my music festivals, or multi-band bills, to concentrate on the music. Even if there are clear Glasgow School of Art influences.

So hurrah for the Retreat! Festival, which is is, pretty much, about the music, even if they do tie a weekend of fun together with food, and comically-dressed comperes.

So, I’d attended the opening day of the Edinburgh festival, so it was apt that I also see the whole thing off with a couple of shows.

It was unseasonably warm at Bristo Square, which lies roughly between the Spiegeltent and Gilded Balloon, and which makes for a pleasant stroll in what is a quieter period, between many of the festival shows ending and the city returning to normality. For all Axis of Awesome‘s humourous deconstruction of the world of music, there’s no better way to round off with Jack Lukeman hollering “you’re released!” to a rocking Spiegeltent. So long Edinburgh, see you in another year. Well, probably.