MANY Edinburgh residents, even when culturally inclined, may share Norman Bissett's rather ambiguous view of the capital's festival season.

SCAVENGERS

Pursuing culture in Edinburgh, in August,

with the sun in God's heaven, is fraught

with difficulty, even for vultures.

It causes a furrowing of the brow,

elicits sighs, symptoms of weariness.

Two thousand plus productions

invoke a feeling of satiety, a sense

of overkill, of accidie.

Even with concessions and previews

it threatens the pensioner's purse.

So many Festivals to choose from:

International, Film, Jazz, Comedy, Science, Book,

and Fringe, with Pittenweem and North Berwick

in simultaneous contention. The programme

is thicker than a telephone directory,

the big ha' Bible, the London A-Z.

So many titles to evaluate. So many choices.

A Mandarin version of Kafka's Metamorphosis -

perhaps a tad recherché? Likewise

The tragedy of Coriolanus, also in Chinese?

Fidelio? Or the Wellington (New Zealand) Ukulele Band?

Fleabag? Or the Kierkegaard Comedy Show?

How blessed we are by all this cornucopia.

September beckons and a declining sun,

with walks and cups of tea in the Botanics.