New Year in Edinburgh

I arrived in Edinburgh on the 2^nd January. Ok. So the New Year had already arrived, but it was still very young and all the festive markets were still going on. Scotland has two Public Holidays at Hogmanay, rather than the one hangover recovery day that we get in England. And as they fell on a Friday and a Monday this year, I had arrived in the relaxed bit in the middle.

I was staying in the Youth Hostel in Haddington Place, just down from The Playhouse. It was an ideal location, a stone’s throw from Waverly Station and Princes Street. That was especially important as I can’t use the buses. Although my little mobility scooter is smaller than the maximum size wheelchair Lothian Buses will allow on board, a scooter with handlebars is something else, even on the new tram network. It is not allowed on either! Lothian Buses aside, nobody else I spoke to in Edinburgh, or elsewhere, can understand that rule. Anyhow, rant over. And now that I have reconciled myself to that fact, Edinburgh has returned to being a place in my heart. I had loved living there and often wonder why I left.

I’ve gone off track. The whole of Princes Street Gardens from The Mound to Waverly Bridge was filled with market stalls selling German cake, wooden carvings, beer and colourful things from India and South America. I was pleased to discover a stall that sold gloves made from Alpaca wool. I was still mourning the loss of a pair I had bought in Peru. They had been the warmest gloves I had ever owned.

At the bottom of the gardens, was Santa Land. It had funfair rides for little people and a little train that ran around the edge. At the top were a couple of rides for bigger people. I contemplated the chair planes carousel that was almost as high as the 60m Scott Monument. I decided against that particular pleasure. I’m afraid I’m a teacups girl when it comes to fairground rides.

My glasses steamed up the instant I entered The Elephant House coffee shop on George IV Bridge. It was so warm inside that the windows were also steamed up, depriving me of a view of the castle while I drank my coffee.

Leaving The Elephant House, I wandered along to the statue of Greyfriars Bobby and Greyfriars Kirk. The little dog had become famous in the 19^th Century when he faithfully guarded his master’ grave for fourteen years after he died, until he, too, died. In the graveyard, in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, are many imposing Victorian gravestones. Many of them line the walls of the buildings backing onto the graveyard.  An uncharacteristly small one set into the wall of the kirk, is blank but has a skull and cross bones at the base. It made me wonder about the story behind its owner.

I returned to the Youth Hostel, cold but happy. I set about packing, ready to leave the next morning after a nice couple of days in the Scottish capital.