Edinburgh - Tales from Auld Reekie

I haven't been to Edinburgh for 15 years and I'm pretty excited about it. The train to Edinburgh takes the east coast route and as we get near, the sea dips in and out of view. We set up at the hotel, checking out the view of the communal garden, washing hanging from a line that stretches around the outside of the almost circular garden. As we head out, we the excited tourists, walk up towards the old town as people walk down town, heading home from work, all of us united in our looking forward to the weekend.

Up the steps we look across the wide expanse of Princes Street. The streets are so wide here. The air seems clearer here. The town planners knew what they were doing when they built Scottish cities. Everywhere you look there's an interesting looking building; be it the shape, the age or the gargoyles that decorate it. This city is so well preserved.

We end up in a pub on the Royal Mile. Behind us are lists of whiskies but I stick to Guinness. A Goth looking guy with massive hair and white boots turns up to play guitar with two other musicians; older guys with ponytails. They're playing bluegrass. It's ideal, a proper pub, music and Guinness. How could this night ever fail?

The following day we bet on a horse in the grand national and then walk the streets to see where it'll take us. We end up walking through Leith. No sign of Begbie, Renton or Sick boy. It's a quiet morning with a few old people milling around. By the time we get to the docks it's getting warm. Sunshine over Leith. We take the bus back up to town. Edinburgh's quite a small city and it feels pretty quiet after London.

We walk past a massage parlour and decide to go in for a ten minute massage, which is the first time I've ever been to one. As we walk up the hill afterwards I feel so relaxed my head is humming gently. This is fantastic, I could even relax about turning forty, which is a relief as it's tomorrow. That evening, after a tour of the old streets of Edinburgh, which lie under the streets of the Royal Mile, we go back to the same pub where tonight's music is folk. The goth guy walks in again with his guitar. He's playing the folk music tonight with his older pony-tailed friends. Some of the songs are the same as last nights, with added lyrics about Ross County (who've beaten Celtic in the league). Other sports news: my horse, Eric's Charm, fell at the first hurdle.

The next morning I'm forty and we need to catch the train to our next destination. We stop off for a couple of photos at Robert Louis Stephenson's old house, a huge four storey sandstone building with a red door, situated in a cobbled square. As we head up the hill, on the steps of the Anglers Society building is a picture of someone with happy birthday written above the picture. I wonder whether I should leave a picture of myself outside the Anglers Society building, what with it being my birthday too, but alas there isn't time.