True story: I've just begun the five minute walk from the station to my hotel and it's starting to rain. Having blow-dried my hair earlier, this is not ideal. I'm planning on reading my book in the bar later, and want to give off 'sexy librarian about town' vibes. Luckily, I remember the black bucket hat I've got stashed in my bag. I reach in, pull it out, and it's on my head within seconds. I continue my walk.
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| Said bucket hat, from a previous time. |
As I cross Princes Street, a man walks past. He's tall, with a shaved head, and similar glasses to mine. His long black leather coat is striking and I make the immediate assumption that he's 'cool'. He looks at me for a second or two longer than is natural. As I pass, my mental voice provides the narrative. 'Game recognise game,' it says. I continue to my hotel, feeling lighthearted and marvellous. I'm having a lovely time, feeling great, and ready to enjoy my evening.
It's when I'm facing the glass doors of the hotel that I see. There's something on my hat. I quickly pull it off my head and inspect it. What is this large beige blob that's plastered all over the front? Oh, good. That'll be tuna mayo that's oozed out of the butty in my bag. Through the cardboard box, I might add. Excellent. I've been walking around Edinburgh with a tuna mayo hat, and had a cool man stare in disgust. My evening of wine and reading still takes place, but the vibe is less 'sexy librarian', more 'total shit show of a woman'.
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| Just me on a train, listening in. |
My mini break in Edinburgh was, tuna mayo aside, great. From a writing perspective, though, it was essential. Not specifically Edinburgh, but the need to get out and about on my own. It's only by travelling, eating, and drinking alone that you get to eavesdrop on some quality convos. Not in a malicious way, of course. Just in a way that means you hear authentic dialogue from people you don't already know. It gives insight into speech and rhythm, into phrasing and tone, and it provides all sorts of interesting material for characters.
For example, on one train journey I heard two women - strangers from different countries - talk at length about their lives. One had been a dancer on cruise ships, the other was from upstate New York and had been married three times. I'm probably not going to write their entire conversation into a plot, but it was a treasure trove of anecdotes, comments, and opinions. Solo travel is essential to keep things fresh. I can highly recommend it.
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| This was post tuna-mayo so I'm styling it out marvellously |
There's so much culture in Edinburgh, isn't there. Sadly I was too busy listening in on convos and reading my book in bars to trouble the museums. That can be for next time. I did see lots of street performers and Fringe acts peddle their wares as I walked around the town. The Fringe kicked off the day after I got back, so people were getting organised. The best cultural thing I did, however, was reread one of my favourite books of all time. The Sacred Art of Stealing remains top of my personal charts. A thriller, bank heist, romance, and satirical comedy - I chose it because it was written by Scottish author, Christopher Brookmyre. (And also because I love it, and have to revisit it, every couple of years.) When I finished that, I started on the follow up, A Snowball in Hell. They were brilliant ways to pass the time.
Ahh, a full Scottish brekkie. What's not to love? This one was veggie, and all I can say is how much I love veggie haggis. Plus, hiding under the toast is a potato scone. I'd never had one before, but it was fit.
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| Lovely, lovely North Berwick |
I hadn't made any plans prior to arriving in Edinburgh. The world was my oyster. So much so, that when I saw a bus that said North Berwick on it, I hopped on. Regular readers will know, North Berwick is my happy place. It's also about twenty minutes away on the train from Edinburgh. The bus, though? That took an hour and forty. But you know what? It was boss. There was loads of scenery, and it meandered through all the little towns that the train whizzes through. I had a very happy afternoon, and then an even happier North Berwick evening.
That's holiday time over now. Until December when I'll charge my social battery before Christmas. (In North Berwick, as it happens.) Two days escape is all I need. A fortnight away is not for me. I get bored too quickly and I miss cooking. Instead, a couple of days of intense solitude is all I need to feel like I've had a system reset. Now, I'm fresh-faced and raring to go once more. Or something like that. Hope you're feeling similar.
Have a lovely week, folks.
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