After my last two posts recounting my Liverpool jaunt on the cusp of my fiftieth birthday, I’d intended to do this final, third post concerning my follow-up trip to the Scottish capital. But (how dare it), life got in the way!
I wanted the trilogy of Big Five-O posts shared before the turn of this year, and so to meet that deadline I’ve decided to do the final one this way: a pictorial guide to my three night stay. It obviously won’t contain the usual eccentric conversations that seem to plague me wherever I go, but at least it will give you a little flavour of my time there.
My first night on the Royal Mile, looking all Christmassy. The lights draw you up towards the castle.
From the cold and the bustle, I took some welcome respite inside St.Giles’ Cathedral, movingly regaled by a practising choir.
The castle was that impressive I decided to do it again, the next day, in daylight. Not because of ghosts or anything . . .
I might have been in Scotland, but I turned down the chance to hold a Golden Eagle to instead give my change to an American busker who was covering the Stones’ Honky Tonk Woman.
Then, after that bird of prey, I saw another Scottish symbol.
I hope he made it back.
I had a spare twenty minutes so I thought about nipping in here to become a wizard.
On one of the Christmas market stalls:
When I’d been up at Edinburgh Castle I’d spotted this extinct volcano, known as Arthur’s Seat, in the distance, and decided the next morning that I’d climb it. Like you do.
Problem was, Storm Barra was forecast to hit that very day. What could possibly go wrong?
It wasn’t too bad when I set out. A little breezy. It got breezier as time went on.
The cap was swapped for a woolly hat. The zip of my waterproof coat went higher as I did. The view was worth it, though.
I spent twenty minutes or so up there, offering to take a few photographs of couples and groups who’d likewise risked the weather.
There was a larger group, a Spanish class, who made the summit a little after I did. I offered to take a photograph of them all for posterity. One of the students was a girl with an expensive looking camera around her neck. I’m not sure exactly what was being said between her and the teacher, but she seemed very reluctant to hand her camera over to me.
Eventually she did do, motioning me to ensure the strap was around my neck as we took position on the summit edge. “Back a bit . . . “
Of course, the damn thing wouldn’t work, or I wouldn’t. After a couple of attempts, handing the coveted camera back and forth, the teacher handed me his phone instead. “These I can work!” I said. Thankfully it did.
With the weather worsening, my eyes streaming in the wind, I decided to begin my descent. After around ten minutes I noticed that corvids were gathered on both sides of me, maybe amazed at my foolhardiness.
Were they a bad omen? Nah, they might be carrion crows but I’m Jackdaw, don’t forget. I see my feathered totems wherever I go.
I made it down okay, which you know, because, well, this post that’s been written . . .
(Oh yes – I stopped by the ruin of St.Anthony’s Chapel along the way.)
I even had time to visit Easter Road, home of Scottish football club Hibernian, which I’d spotted from my vantage point.
And that was about it, my friends. A brief summary of my stay in Edinburgh. There was more to it, of course, but hampered by both space and time I’ve given you the bare bones.
Heading back to the Royal Mile from Easter Road the storm finally unleashed some of its fury and I had to make my way through a snowstorm. I think I’d got my timing spot on.
I dried out in a Starbucks, passing the time writing a poem and talking to a couple from Yorkshire. I also kept an eye on travel disruption updates and was able to journey home the next day.
Fifty. Let’s do it all again.