Twenty Four Hours In Edinburgh

This post is part of the 'Twenty Four Hours in Your City' Blog project, which involves bloggers from all over the world writing about what they would do with a guest in twenty four hours in their city. Please don't read my post for accuracy...the aim of this is to be fantastical, a dream twenty four hours in this city, rather than one grounded by the limitations of reality. I was told about this project by Siobhan,a freelance writer, fashionista and animal lover who has a wonderful blog here ... http://www.facetsofthefabulous.blogspot.com/

We begin at six o clock in the morning, I am not usually up at this
time, but today I’m awake long before counting the minutes as my
friend is borne towards me by a large yellow Megabus moving
soundlessly through the night.

I am out of my back door at 5.30, even though it takes less than
twenty minutes to walk to the bus station, I am eager not to be late,
and wide awake. I am able to run to the bus station in my flip flops,
as it is a miraculously warm morning towards the end of April, and as
the sky gradually pales from inky to chalky blue, the moon, still
visible begins to fade.

At the bus station I pace up and down, edgy as hell, constantly
glancing at my phone, until the man at the information stand says ‘All
right Hen?’ Something I like about Edinburgh is that people are nice.
They genuinely give a damn about you.

However, that moment my friend’s bus rolls in on time. And I watch by
the entrance as he gets off the bus, his rucksack over one arm, his
clothes just so in their slight scruffiness. We greet one another,
stiffly with a hug, then I ask him if he is tired after his night time
journey. He tells me he isn’t tired in the least, so we go back to my
flat, where we quickly dump his stuff, and then we are straight out
again.

I live right by Holyrood Park, and my flat is overlooked by the
magnificent Arthur’s seat, the highest point in Edinburgh. Climbing to
the top is remarkably easy if the weather is being lovely, as it is
today, and you can choose whether you want to take a gentle or
ramblacious route. We decided to climb the steps, then scramble over
the rocks to the top. On a good day, like this, the visibility is
amazing, meaning it is possible to see right across the Firth of Forth
and all of Fife, and then even further away, to make out the shapes of
the often Snow-Capped Highlands. At the highest point there is an engraved
circular steel disc, reminiscent of a sundial, which if you look closely it
tells you exactly what you are looking at, every direction you face.

We stand at the top of Arthur’s seat, exhilarated by the view and the
walk, before scrambling down from the top, then taking the gentle path
down which takes us to Dunsapie Loch, which we walk around the
perimeter off, looking at the baby ducklings and the swans.

By the time we are back from the park it is almost 8pm, and as my
friend wants breakfast I take him to Ollie Bongo’s, a red fronted
café, with a bistro feel, close to Bristo Square where the University
mixes old buildings with new. In the café I drink coffee, I am rubbish
in the mornings and am incapable of being a breakfast person, in spite
of knowing the importance of waking up your body however, I order my
friend a smoked salmon bagel with salad and cream cheese (something I
have had at lunchtime, and one of the most delicious things ever.)
Here we lie back against the plush red cushions and watch people out
of the window, including the throng of students running to be on time
for their nine o'clock class.

Yet something is unusual about the day. The light is changing in a way
you would not normally expect, and as we step out the temperature is a
couple of degrees higher, meaning I have to shed my cardigan and tie it
around my waist. As we wander back through town, I am amazed that the
flowers and trees have changed, the leaves are thicker and the birches
have lost their sapling beauty, replacing it with something more
flirtatious and knowing. We walk past the Islamic green grocers near
Nicholson Square, and outside there are luscious displays of
strawberries, raspberries and juicy ripe tomatoes. I stop and look at
my phone….we have been catapulted into June.

We wander round town, walking slowly along the Royal Mile, and smiling
at all the people in their summer clothes. It is by now a full blown
heat wave, and although the city centre is a wonderful place to be, we
are craving the sea side. One of the magnificent things about
Edinburgh, so often overlooked, is the fact that it is surrounded be
beautiful beaches. We run back to my flat….it’s now eleven and I feel
like the day is escaping…and we grab my bike, and my flatmates bike
(somehow it is the perfect size for my friend) and we head off once
more towards the Park.

Just within the park is a red gravel lane, which weaves through trees
and sunlight and shadows, before turning into the Innocent Railway
cycle path. Once a twelve mile steam railway which transported coal to
Edinburgh, the Innocent Railway is now a beautiful cycle path, with
beautiful wild shrubbery on either side. If you continue along the
path you pass through Duddingston, the Jewel and then finally you are
in Musselburgh, spinning down the hill at top speed towards the long
dusty golden beach. We run into the sea, our bikes chained to the
railings and then after about half an hour we run out, our hair salty,
and our bodies goose pimpled. We throw soft white towels around
ourselves and sit and eat our sandwiches. The day is getting warmer,
even though it is now two in the afternoon, and as we shiver the day
warms us, and we lie back on the beach, until three when we cycle back
to Edinburgh.

It is less the five hours since we left the city, but when we get
back, once again something imperceptible has changed. We put the bikes
away and rush into town. The streets are strangely crowded, and there
are pieces of paper on the ground every where. A young student stops
us and asks if we want to go and see his company’s play. It’s only on
until August 14th, he tells us. Once again I glance at my phone, and
discover that time has leapt forward. We are in the midst of the
headiest, most feverish, awesome theatre festival in the world.

We wander along the Royal Mile slowly and stop and watch street
performers. One of them, a peripatetic magician decided to grab my
friend from the audience. He makes him eat fire. I wince, but my
friend laughs. Suddenly I feel heady and dizzy and mad from all the
crowds. We rush to a pub but can’t find anywhere to sit, so we dash
down to Princes Street, and then along to George Street, where we sit
in All Bar One, the one bar which is quiet during the festival,
perhaps due to it looking far grander and pricier than it really is.
There we sit and sip on pints on Amstel as we peruse our Fringe
programmes, and decide what show we are going to see. We can only see
one, so I opt for a play by renowned theatre company Belt Up.


We go to C-Soco and rush in to see the show, just before the door closes.
I love Belt Up, I love their quirkiness, the way they include the
audience in their work, the intimacy of the venues they choose. I love
the way some of their plays are off beat interpretations of well known
myths, and I love the heartbreaking combination of comedy and pathos
with which they perform.

When we leave it is 8pm, and although it is still clear, the daylight
has already gone to be replaced by numerous stars. This is unusual for
August; more unusual however is the drop in temperature, which leaves
me shivering into my friend’s jacket. My instinct is to go back to my
flat, to stay warm, but glancing at my phone I notice it is the 24th
of November, the day when the Christmas Market opens. We run to
Princes Street, anything better that staying still in this weather,
and then we dash along to Princes’ street Gardens to join the skaters
on the ice rink.

I cannot skate well and often fall over, but this time a kind of magic
descends, and we skate together seamlessly, along with the other
skaters. All of us elegant and agile and beautiful. Afterwards, we go
to one of the food stands for Gluhwein, and Stollen, and then it is
time to go back to my flat and collapse.