July 31st - August 3rd

Sunday was a day off from tourism stuff. I took myself into Edinburgh to meet a friend, and got suitably lost on the way. Instead I found a lovely little tea café, where they served vegan scones with coconut cream and homemade blueberry jam. Yum! Casa Angelina, you won me over. The service was fantastic, and when the owner mentioned that they often carry vegan cakes, well….let’s just say it’s on my “must return to” list.

I finally found my way to the botanic gardens, and spent a good hour just wandering around. There was a beautiful meadow of purples, whites and yellows….in front of a sign dedicated to a poppy field, in commemoration of fallen soldiers. I thought perhaps poppies were out of season, but then I found them growing wild on the side of the road. So there goes that theory.

I raced home, forgoing hot chips in favour of an open mic night I’d seen advertised in Linlithgow. The sign said a 5pm start, and at 5:05 I walked into an empty pub. A staff member assured me it was on, but starting at 6pm, as the next day was a bank holiday. At 6:30, a man with

a guitar strolled in, ordered some dinner, and sat down. At 7pm he played a set to a mostly empty room. He was followed by a duo, whose family had arrived to support them. I was clearly sitting in the audience, there was no one else around. Every single person ignored me, and rather than ask to borrow a guitar and make cheerful conversation, I went home, writing it off as one of the most boring open mics I’ve ever attended.
As a side note, I liked the song playing on the speakers during the break (yes, they had a break after an hour), and discovered Tom Odell, a new favourite. Silver linings, and all that.

Monday I finally picked up the training for the half marathon I’ve entered. The area I’m living in has lots of gentle hills. As a result, the first half of my run was almost entirely downhill. And the second half was almost entirely up. Oooh, the burn! I keep reminding myself that this is what counts. Cross that finish line, and pick up a PB in Scotland. What a dream!

Tuesday was Edinburgh Castle day. Walked up the Royal Mile, admired all the Celtic style jewellery, giggled at the number of soft, plush, Nessie toys, and enjoyed listening to a few street performers. The Royal Mile is both impressive and overrated, all at once. It’s clearly tourist centred, but given the tall, old buildings, the dozens of side lanes and alleys, and the sense of grandeur, it’s easy to see why

people flock there. I found a little eatery Kirsty had recommended, and ordered a baked potato filled with haggis. Well, the vegan equivalent anyway, so basically a potato dish full of salty goodness.

After a bustling walk up to the castle, I was ready to explore inside. I’d like to say I enjoyed it, but that would be an exaggeration. Due to both Summer and the festival, the sheer number of tourists here is overwhelming. Yes, I know I’m one of them. It was impossible to walk, and as a result, everyone was shuffling along, moving at the grand pace of one step per minute. I joined a walking tour, as (guess what?) it was starting three minutes after my arrival. I’m getting good at timing these things. They’re not even on the hour or anything, so it’s pretty good luck I think!
The tour guide was very knowledgeable, but it was nearly impossible to hear him. People in the group were talking over him, and there was so much background noise, it was frustrating.

I had a look at the room where Mary, Queen of Scots gave birth to the future King James. It was incredibly small. We shuffled in, did a circuit, and shuffled out again, with people creating a continuous circuit in and out of the room. Many visitors were surprised at the size of the room. I thought it was perfect: small, and safe, just what a laboring woman needs.

I then joined a queue which followed the history of the Stone of Scone and the Crown Jewels, which ended with a viewing of both, in a darkened, secure room. I was so conflicted. It’s the stuff of fairytales, and I can see the appeal of grand castles, ornate accessories, and the legacy of royal families. On the one hand, very impressive craftsmanship, and of course, a display of power, wealth and leadership. On the other hand, the very thing those jewels stood for, have been the basis of countless wars for control. Even the Stone of Destiny originally had other uses, which were adapted for the coronation of kings and queens, and became a symbol of England’s control over Scotland when they took the stone. Standing squashed amongst all those people, just to catch a glimpse of these things, left me wondering how much of this attraction is based on genuine interest, and how much is hyped up for the sake of us tourists.
I think I’d rather be on a mountain top, but again, I’ve now ticked it off the list, and added to my knowledge and experience.

On the way down from the castle summit, I passed a cemetery for dogs of war. It broke my heart. Tiny little graves for dogs who were involved in the war efforts, not by choice, but through a willingness to help humans. Such a waste of innocent lives. On the other hand, it was nice to see that those dogs had been recognised, unlike so many horses and other creatures once taken for granted as a necessary waste of war.
To take a more positive approach, the view from the castle was fantastic. A sweeping view of Edinburgh, as was the intention of building on such a high vantage point. That, and defence, of course.

Tuesday night I was invited to a pot luck dinner, and I arrived to a smorgasbord of delicious vegan variety. I got to meet a nice group of local vegan people, some of whom I’ll join on Sunday for a walk in Glasgow. On the way home, I found an email about a job application. Which found me back on the train on Wednesday morning, headed in for an interview. Finished the interview, realised I’d left the oven on, panicked, and headed straight home. Came home to the house still standing (oh, thank goodness! I’m meant to be the responsible house sitter!) and charcoal peanuts.
I’m looking forward to living closer to the city centre. At least that way, if I leave the oven on, it’s not an hour and a half back to rescue some over-roasted peanuts.