Edinburgh is a windy city. When the wind is powering in from the north it's doubly windy. This is one of those days. The hotels are full of cheerful Americans and Canadians who have cannily worked out that hotel rates are 50% lower than they were in peak season. In the hotel lobby we hear two couples from Chicago list all of the things they've done in a three day bargain break. They seem to have foregone sleep. Perhaps the secret to Scotland in the autumn is to cram a weeks worth of sightseeing into an extended weekend.
We go to Old Saint Pauls to see the Alison Watt artwork. We've been told that it's ethereal in the sense of being other worldly. https://artandchristianity.org/ecclesiart-listings/alison-watt-still . It isn't there or, if it is, we can't find it. We arrive just as the eight am mass is starting. This is the old Episcopal church in Edinburgh and history haunts this largely unknown and rarely visited spot. Four ageing clerics and a man in a black track suit with a heavily tattooed neck are the only attendees. The clerics sit in pews by the brightly lit altar. The tattooed man wanders around.
The nave is unheated and there's no music so we opt to leave. Why do church doors always make a loud, guilt inducing, creak when you try to make a silent exit? By four minutes past eight we're out and back on the Royal Mile.
We pass a shop selling kilts. Angus is delighted that there's not a bow tie or jacket with silver highlights to be seen. He's less enthused about putting buttons on pocket flaps and up sleeves. Why ? What earthly purpose can they serve ? When it comes to highland wear restraint is a virtue. The Brigadoon look can all too easily beckon.
St.Giles doesn't open until ten. Outside there's a group of Canadians debating whether to go to Starbucks or Pret a Manger. They opt for Starbucks . 'You can't go wrong there' says a man whom the others defer to. They're joined there by a Japanese gentleman in a kilt and a bunnet. Life is full of the improbable.
On the other side of the square the Auld alliance seems to be alive and not just kicking but thriving. The French have set up their Institut Francais in a very fine Georgian building next to the High Court. There's a cheeky hint of Versailles in the first floor windows.
Behind a door in the hotel room we find a turret. This has an upholstered banquette that runs round the walls with a small marble table in the centre. The banquette is much higher than an ordinary chair so you have to hop up onto it.
From the turret we can look south all the way across the Forth towards Kirkcaldy. Or, we could if only the low clouds would lift. Eagle eyed readers will note that the banquette uses the window surrounds for back rests. This is not a 'comfortable' design feature.