retiredmartin

July 2025. Edinburgh.

Only one day in Edinburgh, but a glorious day, and I’d have got closer to 50k steps if I’d kept going when Mrs RM faded after tea.

With the Festival (the posh bit) and the Fringe (also the posh bit) starting on Thursday, Tuesday saw a city heaving with Japanese and American tourists for whom the comedy shows wouldn’t mean much due to language differences.

My notes say “Bite me. Lewis Capaldi“, which I hope is a reference to the soundtrack in Haymarket’s top panini cafe.

I overtook the Japanese tourists approaching the Georgian House, only to be accosted by a National Trust volunteer who regaled me with tales of her Sheffield-born grandmother. And then inside it was a choice between the over-enthusiastic (is there any other kind ?) American tour guide,

and local volunteers keen to explain the significance of the books.

All the books.

I bolted for the wonderful Modern Art Gallery, where “Everything Is Going To Be Alright“,

And Bob Marley was right, everything is going to be alright, except for this fella who Anthony Gormley buried up to his waist,

forever wondering what joys are inside Gallery 1.

Well, Piss Flowers by Helen Chadwick, which I’d always wanted to see.

Oddly, the first bar I saw after Piss Flowers was the Wee Vault.

What can it mean ?

Meanwhile, Mrs RM had been doing the Instagram crawl around Dean village and the Water of Leith,

and now called me to urge me to join her at Cairngorm Coffee where her Pastrami, Emmental and Mustard roll had somehow come with mustard, and could I help her eat it ?