Say it slowly tour Day 7: Edinburgh, Bobby, Whoosky n Folk

(Posting after a couple of days so please forgive gaps in the old memory.)

For research, i bought Ian Rankin’s Knots and Crosses at Birmingham airport. I figured it would be as good a refresher on Edinburgh as anything. It’s a fine read too, a little rough around the edges, but that’s to be expected for an early book.

Flew intae Edinburgh, got the shuttle bus into Waverley Station. Things started to look familiar, probably a little more than London did (Parts of London did look familiar, but those were the landmarks that have been put into my head from an early age watching the BBC.

Edinburgh’s streets seemed familiar, its little places, and its fucking huge hills. (Some folks way have heard me talk of my plans for when I’m voted god — Auckland, Dunedin, Edinburgh and Glasgow get flattened out, and only the last three get rebuilt.) The hills do come in handy, not just for trying to keep the English out, but also for providing a good place to walk off a full breakfast (but more of that later).

I only got a little misplaced walking from the station to the hostel, not a bad effort given I didn’t pack a map and couldn’t get a signal from the btopenzone. I was in a bit of a hurry, as dark clouds were looming and I wanted to finish the Rebus novel. I took a couple of random turns, looked up, and saw the hostel. A happy happy sight, as I can get a little frustrated (and frustrating) in these circumstances.

Checked in, got my single room (Edinburgh Metro Hostel is used as a hostel for the summer, and is uni accommodation the rest of the year, so it’s all single student rooms, single bed, desk and wardrobe. Ah, privacy.

Flopped down on the bed and finished the novel: the butler did it, of course (not really, but do you really want spoilers?). Then went a walking, wandering all over the joint, finding places coming back into my memory.

Edinburgh is a three dimensional city, with hills, bridges (even one named for George IV, he’s not a geezer that seems to get much named after him), weird little terraces, laneways, multi levels. It isn’t always easy getting around, a short walk on a map can be a climb, and some steps, and then if you miss the little alcove you’re walking around the block to get to the right level. But after a while, something clicks, and the full puzzle falls into place. If someone told me that Escher spent time in Edinburgh, I wouldnt be surprised.

Edinburgh on the last Saturday of the Festival (and on a long weekend, too) when the weather is fine, is insane. Streets packed, bars packed, alleys packed, restaurants packed, everything is packed. I looked in vain for food, just wanting somewherre I could sit and enjoy some good local food. it wasn’t to be. Settled for the other local experience, a fish supper (and even then I had to queue). Fish was good, chips were homemade, and went for a deep fried haggis too. The haggis was not wonderful, having sat for too long so was a mass of pepper and grease really. Having had good haggis before, I know that what I had wasn’t it. But, suitably braced, I went looking for a drink.

Greyfriars Bobby’s Bar had a free stool by the bar, and it had my name on it. Service was flat out, so took a while to get a half of Best and a double of Macallan. Welcome to Scotland.

After a time a local folk singer called Graham E Pearson came on, playing tunes and playing up to the mostly non-local crowd (a few were locals, surprisingly). He had a bunch of scottish folk tunes, combined with a few all round staples. I had a double Lagavulin and a half of Youngs, then a double Oban, then a double Laphroaig. Felt very relaxed and mellow. I was inn Edinburgh, at the festival, just chilling at a bar.

I wasn’t drunk, just relaxed, but felt that I owed a couple of folks back home some faux drunken phonecalls. First up was Al, just to wake him up at 7am (his time) and giggle that I hadn’t had Glenkinchie (it’s a long story).

Back at the hostel I called Liz, just to hear her voice, have a bit of a chat. Was good.

Then it was off to the land of nod.