In which we embarked upon all the tourist attractions one never gets round to on account of being a native Scot.

Colin and I planned this trip around our respective availability and the possibility that it might not rain on at least one of the days we were there. It ended up being the hottest week of the year.

St Giles’ (!) Cathedral, where I “forgot” to buy a photo pass.

Who doesn’t love a huge organ?

Plungin’ into Edinburgh Dungeon. (The worst part? They have this exact same thing at the London Dungeon so I knew it was coming, and my face still looks like this.)

Why am I this way?

The ticket-buying process was also such a fiasco that I lost it halfway through checkout and Colin had to apologetically complete the rest of the transaction while I laughed helplessly in the background. A portent of things to come.

The Scott Monument was technically the next destination on our list but it was mysteriously closed all 3 days we were there.

Love, Simon (2018)

Jackfruit skewers at The Rosehip.

Colin requested the largest room they had and, true to their word, they gave us the disabled-access room with a king-size bed.

Hell of a view though.

Panda & Sons: a hidden bar fusing the classic prohibition-style Speakeasy with a nod to the vintage barbershop. (Doing so rather too effectively as I would never have known this was a bar from the outside!)

Each cocktail is crafted around an ingredient gifted to the proprietor – including this Bakehouse Cobbler which was topped with Dundee Cake!

Leaving via the secret entrance hidden behind a panelled wall.

Day 2: This sign proved particularly portentous as we headed out to climb a mountain on the hottest day in Edinburgh’s recorded history.

Cats (2019)

Boys Brigade, Bugles Played, Jawbone, Jawbone. I mean it writes itself.

Our destination: what we thought was Arthur’s Seat until we double-checked the map and realised it’s the one on the far right.


Having successfully identified the thing we were trying to climb, the real work began.

The view over Salisbury Crags (aka the hill we’d mistaken for Arthur’s Seat).

This was also the day we discovered that they now sell Aquarius in the UK. 懐かしい!

My exact thought process every time I’ve seen a cruise liner since 1997.

In the immortal words of Miley Cyrus: “Ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side…it’s the climb.”

Arthur’s Seat is an extinct volcano offering panoramic views over the whole of the city. (Though let me tell you, the volcano felt pretty active that day as we were burned alive under weather conditions Scots were never designed for. 🌋)

It’s worth noting that this picture is a lot less adventurous than it looks; relying on an optical illusions that obscures the ledge about 4 feet below us. The same <i>can’t</i> be said of the guy who was quite literally hanging off the edge of the cliff and giving me a vicarious anxiety attack.

Me: Why do I always end up with holes in the crotch of my trousers?
Also me:

This group of Russian kids set up camp on the exact spot of land we were about to take our pictures from so we just sat around and made them feel uncomfortable until they left. This was the final straw for them.

Worth it.

I cannot stress enough the importance of wearing SPF 50.

Taps-Aff (Scots Vernacular): Literally “tops off.” The removing of one’s shirt in the event of warm weather; a phenomenon rarely seen in Scotland.
Antonyms: Every day since.


The Cali Cheese vegan burger at Byron.

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