PLAYWRIGHT, author, performer and dad Alan Bissett takes his much-loved character Moira Bell back to the Fringe for (More) Moira Monologues, the long-awaited sequel to the straight-talking Falkirk cleaner’s 2009 Edinburgh debut.

5am. The wee man is 15 months old and he’s standing up in his cot. If we can’t get him back to sleep, it’s downstairs: porridge for him, coffee for me. We’ll read some books together or re-watch the “Magic Dance” scene from Labyrinth (which he’s obsessed with) till he gets sleepy enough for his morning nap, then bam! I’m back in bed. SO GOOD!

8.30am. I walk from our house in the village to the train station, a gorgeous stroll past the loch ... when it’s sunny. When it’s raining it’s a huddled, 15-minute shiver, trying to avoid the giant splashes roaring off the wheels of lorries. This is a good time to run some lines from the play before rehearsal, though it risks your fellow villagers thinking you’re babbling to yourself. On the train I’ll check in on Scottish political Twitter. I left Twitter more than a year ago in favour of peace and quiet but I still find it useful as a news feed, a resource for interesting links and a way to see what’s happening in the independence movement.

10am. Rehearsals start for my “one-woman show” (More) Moira Monologues with director Sacha Kyle. It’s a follow-up to the original Moira Monologues we premiered in 2009, as we wanted to catch back up with the character of Moira – Falkirk’s hardest woman – in a Scotland that’s changed a great deal over the past eight years. Our rehearsal room is in the back of the Glad Café in Shawlands, where staff carry plates to and from the kitchen. I sometimes wonder the hell what they make of me – in the six seconds or so that they’re in the room – dressed as Moira, swearing and roaring. I’m told that at one point the staff thought a fight was breaking out. Good. That’s a sign that it’s convincing.

3pm. We finish rehearsing and I’ll head back into Glasgow city centre, scoff some sushi before my train, then get back in time to play with the wean for a while before his bath at 6pm and the protracted wrangling of bedtime.

7pm to 9pm. I’m on kitchen-cleaning duty. This is probably my favourite time of the day. I roll up my sleeves and get stuck into the bombsite while listening to podcasts of American geeks discussing rumours about upcoming Marvel films. You would not believe how long I can listen to nerds analysing a trailer for Thor: Ragnarok.

9pm to 11.30pm. My partner and I will hit the couch and talk about our day, coo at photos of the wee man like proper saps, then watch an episode of Game Of Thrones or Orange Is The New Black. When we bed down for the night we’re praying it’ll be several hours before the telltale cry from the next bedroom ...

Until Aug 28 (not 14, 21), Scottish Storytelling Centre (V30), 7pm, (1hr), £15, £12 concs. Tel: 0131 556 9579. Tickets: bit.ly/MoreMoira