Timber's weekend excursions No. 89 - Edinburgh

Edinburgh Old Town from Princes St Gardens

This weekend I have mostly been visiting Edinburgh. And wondering why the hell I hadn't been before. Edinburgh is stunning. As we drove into the city on Saturday morning, it confused me how beautiful everything was; surely there was some mistake, this couldn't be Britain, right? The same country that, in 1585, built the Staple Inn on High Holborn, and then 4 centuries later thought it would be an idea to build The Crime Against Humanity That Is The Building To The Left Of It?

Upon arrival we met up with some of Bear's friends - in fact, I will give Pete the musician a plug, since he organised accommodation and some entertainment for us. After various shenanigans including being locked out of one flat by a mysterious woman named Nogs who we never met, and then chasing an annoyed man called Eric down a canalside, we found our place to stay for the night, which turned out to be a yoga mat in a 4th floor bedroom that had been converted into a Hindu shrine. There was no kidding either. I laid out my sleeping bag and was swiftly informed that I had made an error: a bed should never point towards the door or the window since this would be tremendously bad Feng Shui.

Thistles outside the Controversial Scottish Parliament Building, as it's officially known.
And a bee.

The utter lack of organisation permeating through our whole trip meant that we hadn't booked any show tickets. This left us trawling the free fringe circuit, which - so long as you didn't mind every show starting with a variation on the "yes, I have to do my own lighting and sound" moan - was actually pretty damn good.

Between the four of us we were bantered at by each of the first four comedians we went to see. This was possibly something to do with sitting in the front row most of the time. Under provocation I even went as far as punching Maff Brown, whose show we'd turned up to purely on the basis that his flyer included a recommendation from Bill Bailey. He seemed to take it alright though, and after his act, which was in fact one of the best of the weekend, we had a natter in the bar afterwards about Staines and other highlights of the Reading-Waterloo line. He gave me his card and I told him to come to one of my impro comedy shows in London. I suspect he won't.

We took in some jazz later that night at an underground café with Malteser cakes. I have never had a Malteser cake before. It was fast becoming a holiday of new experiences. Then a young lady whom you may remember briefly appearing in Timberblog last summer dropped by. We promptly discussed my direction in life, which had, over the course of the year, naturally changed completely; this was evidenced by her first question, "so... weren't you going to Amsterdam?"

Edinburgh from the Salisbury Crags

Now one issue with Edinburgh is that there is a dormant volcanic mountain sitting right next to it. Unfortunately when Timbers see this kind of thing, a kind of primal instinct takes over, and the mountain MUST BE CONQUERED.

And so it was that I dragged Bear up all 250.5 metres of Arthur's Seat on Monday afternoon. At the top, we found amazing vistas across the city and Lothian, astoundingly pure highland air, and for some reason, Jeremy Paxman.

Monday evening was the absolute last night of the fringe. We decided to bite the bullet and actually pay for some shows. This turned out to be an Error. Here's some advice: on the last night of the fringe festival, a lot of performers are 1. tired, 2. pissed or high, 3. not under pressure to get good reviews. Do not go to a ticketed show on the last weekend, go to free ones. You'll be much happier giving a tip at the end of a good free performance than wanting your money back after a terrible paid one. Trust me on that one.

Leith and the Firth of Forth, featuring the aptly named Royal-Yacht-not-appearing-in-this-photo.

On Tuesday Edinburgh turned back to normal, as did the weather, which had been gloriously sunny up until then. We did a few more sights: the literary museum, which boasted such exhibits as a pane of glass that Walter Scott scribbled his name on as a kid*; the castle hill and Princes St Gardens; and the Port of Leith with its star attraction, the former Royal Yacht Britannia. Which we didn't go on because we couldn't be arsed. The port was nice though, with its evocative views across the Firth of Forth to the Highlands beyond.

*When does desperate memorabilia finish and valuable cultural artefacts start? (Answer: not here.)

All in all it was a brilliant weekend. If you are reading this and you have never been to Edinburgh, rush out and book travel immediately.