Oh, Edinburgh! Dearest city mother with too many children; lady of grace with so much to do; cherished nursemaid laden with contracts of responsibility. Yet you tend to it uncomplaining. You raise your progeny consistently, watchful over everyone who lives here and passes through as you sleep lightly, keeping one eye half open. I know … Continue reading Edinburgh Resting
‘Look, darling, her tee-shirt says we can ask her a question.’ She nudged her husband in the ribs, ‘I don't have one, do you?’ He didn’t either. She looked disappointed, they walked on and I loitered some more. Not so tongue-tied was the uniformed bus driver on his way down the hill to work. ‘Are … Continue reading Ask Me A Question
I’ve not got any, even though apparently one third of Scots aged 26-40 have at least one. Ok, so I fall out of that age bracket, but I reckon I’m unlikely to fall into the ‘inked up’ category at this stage of my life; although you never know, didn't David Dimbleby take a rush of … Continue reading Edinburgh Tattoo
Edinburgh is neither boastful nor pompous, which is not to say that this is a modest city. I’m not saying it’s in any way conceited, but I would characterise it as a place that quietly, but most assuredly, knows itself. It is definitely not a city given to swagger. It doesn’t strut like Danny Zuko or wiggle … Continue reading Dressing Up Box
There you are, leaving the flat, walking up the hill on just another day. Striding out carrying two bags that are too heavy. When are you going to learn? You’ll end up with your right shoulder lower than your left – with a list like the Titanic. Pop the recycling into the bin, that’s it: ‘good … Continue reading Just Another Day
J. was here at the weekend. He’s eight and he’s a numbers boy. He assessed my fuel gauge as we drove out towards the coast. It’s shaped like a clock, with twelve rays fanning out in a circle, all of which light up orange when it’s full, then each ray is stubbed out as the … Continue reading Numbers
That’s Edinburgh’s festival season wrapped up for another year. I walked down George Street last night at dusk as teams of William Wallace lookalikes - shaggy-bearded, strong types, strung with leather tool belts - disassembled the pop up street bars and stages. All twenty-two temporary venues that took weeks to piece together will be popped … Continue reading Our Revels Now Are Ended
“I just saw Donald Glover on the Royal Mile; he’s doing on open-air improv show.” I told them this when I met them in George Square. They responded by speaking at the same time; S. with, “Who’s Donald Glover?” and E. with, “Let’s go see him now.” It wasn’t Donald Glover, but it could have been. Nothing would … Continue reading Festival Frenzy
My Edinburgh Press 