Alison's Diary.

Byline: Alison Craig

MY problems have all been of the liquid variety this week - no, it's not what you think, well not solely that anyway! I've been landed with the dishwater from hell which stubbornly refuses to as much as rinse a cup without flooding the kitchen. Oh well, back to the rubber gloves. MONDAY

LAST year I saw comedienne Jackie Clunes' show and she talked about her love of women and general lack of interest in men. How things have changed. This year she talked about discovering the joy of men and after the show in the Assembly Rooms bar it became apparent why - her boyfriend Richard is absolutely gorgeous. He was complaining that all he had ever done was play a policeman in Coronation Street, but I am sure his ego swelled considerably when a friend of mine, who wishes to remain anonymous, grabbed him by the cheeks (the ones on his face) and exclaimed in a truly lascivious manner, `With a face like that you should be in porn films.' My friend will remain nameless if the correct amount of chocolate is received within 24 hours.

TUESDAY

FESTIVAL-free day, phew. It's boiling outside so I put on my least revealing summer outfit for fear of scaring people and left the house at 9am. Put the dishwasher on before I left - it's brand new and I am very excited about it as I have a pathological hatred of doing dishes. Came back at 6.30pm and darn thing was still going. Opened it up and all the water came pouring out and the kitchen is flooded. The doorbell goes - it was my new neighbour popping in to say hello. I tried to explain I was up to my knees in spewy water and she backed out, looking as though she might phone environmental health. Maybe she should.

WEDNESDAY

WALKING the dogs on the beach with Louis who, for some reason, decided to go in swimming with all his clothes on. Just as he emerged from the waves shivering, a kind lass came up and offered him a towel to wrap round his knocking knees. We got chatting. So I asked her back for a cup of tea. As we walked back to the house she bumped into her friend who also joined us and so that's how we came to be sitting outside on a lovely sunny afternoon. Under these circumstances it seemed a crime not to crack open a box of wine. Yes, I always think a box can be a practical way of drinking wine if you sip. Handy for a wee glass at the drop of a hat. Alternatively, of course, you can sit in the sun with two strangers and drink the lot and down three tubes of Pringles. Not proud of myself.

THURSDAY

SORTING through the last few boxes of stuff and was very nearly unpacked when I found a slip of paper with `edible panties raspberry tartan' written on it and a guy's phone number. Confess I was intrigued and decided not to jump the gun but waited patiently for David to return and once he was in a state of relaxation produced the bit of paper wondering what on earth he would say. He burst out laughing, apparently it was an idea for a promotional gift for the restaurants as everyone does really boring things like give away a free cup of coffee as a thanks for showing brand loyalty and so he thought if he gave away edible tartan pants it would be a real talking point. Just as well - I wondered if he was about to admit to trawling the unsavoury end of the internet for a minute or two. Suspicious minds, eh? Dish-washer still on.

FRIDAY

MET Kirsteen from Aberdeen off the train. Went for a wee snack, knowing only too well the consequences of drinking on an empty stomach, or so I thought. Had a starter and a sweet and two bottles of wine. Not funny or clever. Headed to the Assembly Rooms bar where we spotted stars. Robert Llewellyn was there and as Louis is the biggest Scrapheap Challenge fan in the known universe I went wandering up to him and got him to sign a wee card for him. All my friends who were lounging around and trying to look cool and casual were mortified. Back home where I turned on the telly and fell asleep on the floor, but as Kirsteen was still in the mood for dancing - as the Nolans would have said - she picked up my ankles and spun me round which was funny until I saw the state of my suede shirt. Bald on the back now. In fact, it would be fair to say ruined. Och well, it'll match my liver, I suppose.

SATURDAY

QUIET start. Tongue on roof of mouth. Even hangover cure Resolve has no perceivable effect on my throbbing head - I'm obviously allergic to wine. Must stick to lager in future. Please God, make the Edinburgh Festival finish soon... it's killing me.

SUNDAY

SLEPT until 11am and woke up feeling fantastic - still looked hellish, though. These days the morning after the night before I feel hellish and look reasonable, but the next day I look as though someone has removed my eyes during the night and sat on my face.