Woke up feeling better that I probably should have, but maybe it’s one of those things: whisky drunk in Edinburgh during the festival doesn’t give hangovers. it’s a theory anyway. Head a little fuzzy, but nothing that a full breakfast and Irn Bru at the Whiski Bar on the Royal Mile couldn’t fix. Full breakfast wasn’t really full, no black or white pudding, but the bacon was perfect. Admired the whisky menu, too. Then I went off and climbed the Scott monument, all 270 steps or whatever. Rankin calls it a gothic phallic symbol, or something similar. It’s a fair description. Having climbed the Wallace monument, built around the same…