Edinburgh and bathtubs

Oh wow, where to begin. Well I suppose with Sunday night. I had slept in
too late Sunday morning and maybe drunk coffee too late in the day so
that I was wide awake, compiling a list of 127 items to worry about.

By the time we were on the railairlink bus to Heathrow on Monday
morning, three items had been crossed off the list, but then I had to
add another because I'd bought a copy of both the New Scientist and the
Economist and realised I needed to be worrying about Scotland and time
travel.

The plane was annoyingly delayed. Brits were being stiff upper lip, one
man was practising his cricket batting skills with a rolled up brolly.
Another was wearing a tam o'shanter - I felt this needed a whole new
line of stiff upper lipness all of its own.

We finally arrived. The deal we got included flights, hotel and hire
car. I had no trouble switching back to drving on the left or judging
widths of a tenth of a millimetre, but for the life of me I haven't
mastered the hypersensitive brakes properly. The hotel turned out to be
holiday flats, we could ask for nothing more, there is a
lounge/diner/kitchenette, a bedroom and a BATHROOM.

We walked back into town and found ourselves a ghost tour. Bloody
marvellous it was. The tour guide wore a long black cloak and was loud
and theatrical. Oh, and from Ulster, but he was brilliant. First we
walked to several scenes of grisly murders which he described in the
most intricate detail. Then we went down into some ancient vaults where
there have been many paranormal phenomena reported. This was seriously
spooky. It did feel oppressive and cold in parts, making the hairs on
the back of my neck prickle and I for one felt quite dizzy. Sadly
nothing occurred, but these depths were lit by candles so you had the
impression that the air was shimmering in the darkness. It was
fantastic. The tour ended in the backroom of a little tavern where we
were all given a tot of whisky by candlelight and the guide told us the
story of Burke and Hare.

At 21.00 we were looking for somewhere to eat, and did we ever strike it
lucky. We were really down to a choice of Italian restaurants. Kevin
made a good pick. We found a restaurant called 'Zizzi'. We had ravioli
stuffed with black truffle and drizzled with garlic olive oil as a
starter and the flavours were just heavenly. The whole meal was just as
perfect and the prices were very good, unusual for Britain.

By the time we were returning to the hotel, the temperature had dropped
to around 'seriously chilly' but the flat was warm, and then heaven
..... I had a long, deep, relaxing European bath. I think I'd sell my
soul in Canada to get a proper bathtub with a sloping back and narrower,
deeper sides. The things you just take for granted.