Trumpets and raspberries
In advance, Annabel Goldie had forecast that the SNP conference would be a love-in.
Not sure what they all got up to last night: I headed off to the Lyceum to see a splendidly anarchic Dario Fo production.
But collective romancing has certainly been to the fore in the conference hall: a hall bulging with delegates, including to my world-weary eye a fair smattering of new faces.
The Dario Fo play is called "Trumpets and Raspberries". At the SNP conference, the trumpets have been sounding loudly - for themselves.
The target for raspberries? Guess.
Love-in
So, Bella, you called it right. A political love-in, indeed.
Remarkably, much more overtly jolly than even the autumn annual conference, the SNP's first since Holyrood victory.
Then, there was still a tentative touch, a sense of unreality, a feeling of staying relatively quiet for fear of upsetting the atmosphere.
This time, it has been universally upbeat. They believe, they really believe, that they are making serious progress towards their objective of independence.
Now, one must be pragmatic, one must be cautious.
One must point out that the SNP is in minority government at Holyrood, that it is outvoted by parties which support the Union, that a referendum on independence has yet to be tabled, let alone debated, let alone settled.
But one must also report, fully and fairly, that the Nationalists here in conference in Edinburgh are remarkably optimistic, remarkably confident.
I'm 
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