My week: Irvine Welsh

The author pays tribute to an old friend, takes his new short film, Nuts, to the Edinburgh Festival and celebrates a wedding. Meanwhile, there's the tricky problem of how to stop his mum stalking him.

I spent the beginning of the week just chilling out and watching television in Dublin with my wife, Elizabeth - or 'Crystal Meth', as I like to call her - because we knew we were off to Edinburgh and we'd be running around. We've been living in Dublin for three years now, so when I come back to Edinburgh, it's always a chance to catch up with old pals and try to avoid my family. It's been a sad time, though, after the death of my friend Tony Wilson. I was gutted to hear about it, though these last years I haven't been in touch with him much.

Tony always used to send me stuff about bands he liked or had signed and then he stopped. His health was bad and he had other things on his mind. He was always quite stoical and just got on with it, but he was a victim of that postcode lottery with the cancer. It makes it more poignant that he just invested so much of his life in other people.

I first met Tony when I was just an older raver who got into ecstasy and I used to go to the Hacienda. We became friends because he was the one guy who was older than me. Then when the books took off, he looked after me. I think he realised that the Trainspotting thing was going to hit me hard, going from zero to hero. He'd seen it happen with bands and he knew what would happen to me before I did.

I went back to the Hacienda on a tour, and to go back and be the guy who was holding the floor was a big emotional charge for me. I was surrounded by young girls snogging me and guys slapping me on the back. It was a foretaste of the madness to come and Tony was always looking out for me and I'm eternally grateful.

You realise 'visionary' is an overused word - there are people who call Simon Cowell a visionary - but Tony really was. Now you realise that the world has moved from art into entertainment and he was too far ahead of his time.

He could be like Roger Mellie and be the guy on the telly, very straight. Then you think about the people that Tony consorted with in the Hacienda. To square that with being a TV presenter, you have to have massive internal resources. It's almost poignant that he's died now because I don't think he'd have much respect for the world we've made. Culture needs a punk rocker. I don't think Trainspotting would have got published today.

We arrived in Edinburgh at 4am on Wednesday. I have a flat in the city, but I was coming over for a showing of my short film, Nuts, at the Film Festival, so I thought I'd let them put me up in the Prestonfield hotel. It's the best hotel in the world - there are peacocks strutting about on the lawns and you feel like you're in the middle of the Highlands. I saw American indie film-maker John Waters on the golf course.

Wednesday night was the film festival's big launch, with David Mackenzie's film Hallam Foe, which was fantastic. If there's any justice in the world, this film should do really well. There's shit like Pirates of the Caribbean 3 and then there's this, and I think it could be one of those crossover films that goes into the mainstream.

Thursday night was the screening of Nuts, which is your typical testicular cancer comedy. It's about a guy who gets testicular cancer and discovers his inner racism. It'll probably end up on the telly at some point, but it won't be distributed; it's just to show that you can make an 18-minute film for £7,000.

For the past 18 months or so, I've been getting stalked by my mother - I've been doing this writing for 17 years or so and she's never shown any interest - but suddenly she's coming to everything. It's great to have that kind of parental support, but it's a wee bit tardy to be anything other than a very late midlife crisis. She asked me to get her some tickets for the event and one of my friends was supposed to be coming and couldn't make it, so I got her to send the tickets to my mother, but the old girl was also hassling the venue and she ended up with about eight tickets for the thing.

Apart from her, I've been successful in avoiding the rest of my family because they tend to want to take me into their bosom. I went out after the event with my business partner Mark Cousins and his missus. When I'm here, I do like to get my feet under the table with the boys, my wee mate Woody and my pal Fat Jimmy, but this has been a bit of a flying visit.

On Friday, a few of us went down on Virgin trains to Great Malvern for the wedding of my mate, Jambo Sutherland. His name's Fraser, but Jambo is a generic name you give to Hearts supporters in Edinburgh. It's like black people calling one another 'nigga' - they've taken it on as a term of pride. We really should have flown to Birmingham, but I hate planes and the train was a good chance for some bad behaviour. After the wedding, it's back up to Edinburgh and I continue with the culture by taking my wife to Little Sparta, Ian Hamilton Finlay's garden with all the artworks. It's one of the things you have to do in Scotland, but you can only visit by appointment.

I've managed to avoid seeing anything at all at the Festival. Then back to Dublin, where I'll continue working on my motivational speakers' guide.

The welsh CV

The Life
Born 27 September 1958 in Leith, Edinburgh. Left school at 16 and completed a City and Guilds course in electrical engineering. Became an apprentice TV repairman. Moved to London in 1978 and played guitar in punk band, the Pubic Lice.

The Work
First novel, Trainspotting published in 1993, made into a film in 1996. Other work includes; The Acid House, a trilogy, (1994), Marabou Stork Nightmares (1995), Filth (1998), the play You'll Have Had Your Hole (1998), Porno (2002). If You Liked School You'll Love Work, a book of short stories, was published this year.

The GuardianTramp

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