It's been going since 1984 but 6 o'clock this morning was when I heard of it for the first time.  No doubt all my tweeting friends had already been up for hours celebrating international dawn chorus day.  I hope to hear some of them in the new BBC "Tweet of the day" series starting at 05.58 tomorrow.

Birds of a different feather were plentiful in a surprisingly interesting and moving film that I stumbled across yesterday.  I'd spent the better part of the day helping with the Forth Bridge paintingish task of clearing and tidying the Grads store in Home street and popped into the Cameo for a revivifying coffee.  I took it into The Look of Love which was just starting.  A biopic about Paul Raymond seems an unlikely cesspit in which to find a diamond but the performances were excellent, the evocation of the times masterly and the central drama of his relationship with his daughter altogether affecting.

Raymond may have been known as the king of smut but he's outdone on the screen this week by Almodovar's I'm So Excited.   Is it funny? Yesish, but it's like Frankie Howard with the innuendo replaced by direct action.  Those who suggest it's a metaphor for the state of the Spanish nation are over intellectualising a money making romp.

There was an unexpected amount of romping in Zinnie Harris's version of A Doll's House, a revival of which has replaced the play that featured in the Lyceum's brochure published almost a year ago.  It surprises me that such forward planning fails so infrequently but in this case the replacement is a very satisfactory show.  I enjoyed it a lot.

Chinese dumplings replaced pies in the A Play, a Pie and a Pint mini series that is currently running.  The two shows playing in Edinburgh are at the Bedlam and while the Traverse generally fills up for these lunchtime shows there could not have been more than 25 in the house to see Secrets, and most of them seemed to have a connection with the Confuscius Institute which is sponsoring the Edinburgh performances.  That's a shame because it was an intriguing little play in many ways.

Not least in that there seemed nothing particularly Chinese about it.  A man turns up at the house of a woman he had abandoned eighteen months earlier.  She is now married and has a child.  He thinks it might be his.  He suggests they go away together.  After an emotional struggle she agrees because she is still in love with him.  He then hums and haws, says he didn't really mean it and anyway he's getting married next week to his boss.  She throws him out and sits down in tears.  Chinese women have it as bad as any others, eh?

The only tears at the Grads' reading of Julius Caesar (to be performed in November) were tears of laughter.  Not particularly appropriate for a tragedy you'd think but due to the random allocation of roles made on the hoof amongst the inadequate number of people present.  At one point I could hardly read for the tears in my eyes as I grappled with a conversation amongst three characters all being played by me struggling to differentiate them with a range of funny voices.  At least I wasn't being addressed as "girl" as was one hefty male Grad.

All that indoor entertainment was balanced by a glorious summery day on the golf course.  Imagine, short sleeves at last, winter is over, the thump of willow on ball is in the air etc etc.  Alas for one day only.  Maybe it will come again next week or next month or .....