XVII. Old Calton Burial Ground Ensconced behind a ferned wall, moss clad and lichen laden, lie this city’s ancestors. Tombs, mausoleums, marble headstones, monuments in granite obelisk, all stand – or slump – in terminal decline. They tilt and lean, bereft of those who grieved them. No solemn mourners now, they’ve been forgotten. Slaters, snails … Continue reading Old Calton Burial Ground, Princes Street
XV. Bruntsfield Each Tuesday, I wait for niece and nephew by Gillespie’s gates where flocks of youths migrate. A flow unstoppable, torrential surge of students off to colonize, with laughter, leafy laneways of this southside’s suburbs. In pairs, in gangs, chatter erupts, calls of, ‘wait up!’, ‘see you, Cam’, ‘call me tonight’. A lucky dip … Continue reading Bruntsfield, Blackford Hill
Three weeks and four days since I’ve last seen him. We’ve heard from his sister that his decline has been rapid in that time, she says he speaks little during her visits. Time on the frailty ward has not only made him frailer it has mixed up his mind and scrambled his memory. I’m prepared … Continue reading Unborn
XIII. St Andrew Square Bring back Highwaymen! Have them roam the streets. Have them pistol-pin us with the order, ‘Stand and consider!’ Pay close attention to the open sky. Never lie. Sit on the stone benches bordering St Andrew Square. Mull, ruminate, notice the steel-toe-capped booted, yellow-vested builders eating sandwiches under high-plinthed Henry Dundas, ‘Grand … Continue reading St Andrew Square, Eyre Place
XI. Holyrood Park Freedom reigns in Holyrood behind the Queen’s big house. Wide-open space, grass to roam barefoot, feed ducks, kick balls. A woman in a leotard – small waist, wide hips – attempts to wheel a hula-hoop along her arm across her clavicle and back along the other arm. Every time, she fails. I … Continue reading Holyrood Park, Arthur’s Seat
I slipped off to Clifden to find the west is not only awake, it is burnished in gold. Deep into autumn and a summer’s day emerges so warm and still that my swim across Dog’s Bay feels semi-tropical. Our host is pleased we are seeing the west well dressed and prettily turned-out. No, I am … Continue reading The West’s Awake
VIII. Easter Road My stomping ground is Easter Road, a place of withered leaves, stubbed butts, strewn rubbish, and the same squat bulldog lamp post tethered while his master buys a macaroni pie. A bookie’s, two booze shops, three options for tattoos, and a bakery with sourdough for £6 – can’t see that lasting, not … Continue reading Easter Road, Abbeymount, Meadowbank
VI. Royal Terrace Some habits punctuate my days, like sunset walks to Calton Hill with robin, rat and wren. I’ve met them all, housed happily in hawthorn hedge, that neat-clipped edge to Royal Terrace with its high and haughty ‘cannot-help-it’ tinge. Enough to say, I saw a couple dancing there beneath a crystal chandelier. A … Continue reading Royal Terrace, Calton Hill
III. Bonaly The wind is up on my drive to Bonaly past cherry tree trunk soldiers lining Redford Barracks. Fallen leaves St Vitus’ dance in the gutter. At Colinton, I turn towards the hills and take a narrow, pitted road down bumps and bracken-broken verges. Slower now, a herd of alpacas graze the Pentlands’ sheltered … Continue reading Bonaly, Capelaw Hill, Willowbrae
This time two years ago, September 2020, we were deep in the throes of the Covid pandemic, mired in lockdowns and uncertainty. A vaccine was on its way, that much we knew, but we didn’t know when it would be administered, if it would work, or how much of a winter of isolation lay ahead. … Continue reading Once Upon a Time in Edinburgh
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