I’ve got lots written this week (chapter three is about one sixth complete ^__^), and I’m enjoying walking round town and finding an agreeable place to lay my book and and write.

Current wordcount: 38,924

“He left my grandfather’s house for University and never returned. As children, Eyrún and I, we remember a few holidays, Christmas – and maybe a couple of summers. My father was in love with the city. He was not a farmer.”

As he’s been talking Guðni has been handling his whisky glass, moving it round between his fingers. He now stares into it, watching the light reflect across the surface. Suddenly he drops it. To the table it falls, and he strokes the rim once.

“I love the old house. So do the kids, Helen, Ben – I made sure they would love it too. You can lose yourself there.”

Pulling her cloak about her,
A face, innocence itself
She draws us in by torchlight
(shone upwards across her smiling face)
And imparts her stories of royalty and
city folk; Of bloodshed and murder.
Of Burk and Hare. Of James I.
The student who got bored one evening
And smashed down the door to
the Underworld; The wicca coven within.
Torch off. Darkness never diminished.
Her voice. In lilting American draws us
Closer. The most haunted vault in all of Scotland.
Now.
The tour is ended — by long passages,
and twisting stair we return to
Overground.

Pulling her cloak about her,
A face, innocence itself
She draws us in by torchlight
(shone upwards across her smiling face)
And imparts her stories of royalty and
city folk; Of bloodshed and murder.
Of Burk and Hare. Of James I.
The student who got bored one evening
And smashed down the door to
the Underworld; The wicca coven within.
Torch off. Darkness never diminished.
Her voice. In lilting American draws us
Closer. The most haunted vault in all of Scotland.
Now.
The tour is ended — by long passages,
and twisting stair we return to
Overground.

Edinburgh.
Cobbles and railings.
Castles and palaces.
Bars and good conversation
Life in a whisky glass—
with a view over the Forth.
Home, that is made—
by the new friendships
of convivial folk.
In the land. That Professional folk live.

Edinburgh.
Cobbles and railings.
Castles and palaces.
Bars and good conversation
Life in a whisky glass—
with a view over the Forth.
Home, that is made—
by the new friendships
of convivial folk.
In the land. That Professional folk live.

Vaulted ceilings
And darkened corners,
The faces of the past hide within.
The screeching of rats; the gnawing of their teeth;
the feel of them across your feet
The pressing of cold, bony fingers round your ankles

A screech—
in the dark.
And nothing. Darkness.

Vaulted ceilings
And darkened corners,
The faces of the past hide within.
The screeching of rats; the gnawing of their teeth;
the feel of them across your feet
The pressing of cold, bony fingers round your ankles

A screech—
in the dark.
And nothing. Darkness.

Every close is named
Every gloom filled passage
links one world
To another.
Filled with secrets
Filled with lives untold
The lamp that flickers
beneath the external stair.
A world visible, and ye—
Unseen.

Every close is named
Every gloom filled passage
links one world
To another.
Filled with secrets
Filled with lives untold
The lamp that flickers
beneath the external stair.
A world visible, and ye—
Unseen.

Following the meal we regrouped a few doors up the road in a bar, where I stayed until about 10… before flagging down a passing taxi and making my way to my less than solubrious hotel. Helpful tip: I don’t recommend the Murreyfield Hotel! In the morning, I breakfasted, checked-out and headed to the Haymarket part of town to check in to my B&B. Free of my larger bag, I head out into town, making use of Edinburgh’s excellent bus system, and begin my foray into the delights of rambling tenements and luxiurious new town with an open top bus tour.

Having been *introduced* to the fine city I headed up through Mary King’s Close to the Royal Mile and turned upwards to make to the castle, ambling past photo opportunities to the castle. I decided with only a day and a half *in town* to not go in on this trip, so instead ambled back down the the royal mile poking my curious head in there and down that passage (again taking more photos – Edinburgh’s a very photogenic city).

I stopped at a market stall – Adore – that I had spotted on the way up selling silver jewellery, and bought another pendant to interchange with my amber one. I then met up with Jane and David – old friends from Crewe+Alsager, and we went to find a soup and roll before they took me off to show me the Grass Market and the Cowgate part of town. After I left them I did the eastern end of the royal mile, all the way down to Holyrode Palace (past the endless construction site that is the Scottish Parliament), by which time it was starting to get dark and I decided to head back to my B&B for a bit of a lie down and a wash before the evening.

And so to the evening. A simple Italian meal in a place opposite the Festival Theatre, early so as to make the the ghost tour of the old town. Meeting at the Tron Kirk, it was a little confusing as there was 50 strong pre-arranged group that was being split over two tours, some coming with the public tour I was on. Our guide cloaked in back was a youthful American with an excellent conspiratorial tone, she took us first through the old town and then through the underground city. At the end of the tour I wasn’t ready for bed, and so, on my way back down through the town I stopped off in a wine bar for a glass of a whisky, a write of my novel, and to create the third Edinburgh inspired this weekend. Back at the B&B, a fourth poem came to me, as I sat watching the end of the HIGNFY repeat.

Sunday morning, brought clear blue skies, and a walk through Princes Street Gardens, and a trip to the Blackwell’s bookshop to equip myself with histories of Edinburgh for my *new* novel. Another lunch of soup, a stroll back to the West End, and it was time to catch the AirLine bus home … still, at least I have orientated myself to the city ready for my next visit (which, I am told, will be early next year)…

Following the meal we regrouped a few doors up the road in a bar, where I stayed until about 10… before flagging down a passing taxi and making my way to my less than solubrious hotel. Helpful tip: I don’t recommend the Murreyfield Hotel! In the morning, I breakfasted, checked-out and headed to the Haymarket part of town to check in to my B&B. Free of my larger bag, I head out into town, making use of Edinburgh’s excellent bus system, and begin my foray into the delights of rambling tenements and luxiurious new town with an open top bus tour.

Having been *introduced* to the fine city I headed up through Mary King’s Close to the Royal Mile and turned upwards to make to the castle, ambling past photo opportunities to the castle. I decided with only a day and a half *in town* to not go in on this trip, so instead ambled back down the the royal mile poking my curious head in there and down that passage (again taking more photos – Edinburgh’s a very photogenic city).

I stopped at a market stall – Adore – that I had spotted on the way up selling silver jewellery, and bought another pendant to interchange with my amber one. I then met up with Jane and David – old friends from Crewe+Alsager, and we went to find a soup and roll before they took me off to show me the Grass Market and the Cowgate part of town. After I left them I did the eastern end of the royal mile, all the way down to Holyrode Palace (past the endless construction site that is the Scottish Parliament), by which time it was starting to get dark and I decided to head back to my B&B for a bit of a lie down and a wash before the evening.

And so to the evening. A simple Italian meal in a place opposite the Festival Theatre, early so as to make the the ghost tour of the old town. Meeting at the Tron Kirk, it was a little confusing as there was 50 strong pre-arranged group that was being split over two tours, some coming with the public tour I was on. Our guide cloaked in back was a youthful American with an excellent conspiratorial tone, she took us first through the old town and then through the underground city. At the end of the tour I wasn’t ready for bed, and so, on my way back down through the town I stopped off in a wine bar for a glass of a whisky, a write of my novel, and to create the third Edinburgh inspired this weekend. Back at the B&B, a fourth poem came to me, as I sat watching the end of the HIGNFY repeat.

Sunday morning, brought clear blue skies, and a walk through Princes Street Gardens, and a trip to the Blackwell’s bookshop to equip myself with histories of Edinburgh for my *new* novel. Another lunch of soup, a stroll back to the West End, and it was time to catch the AirLine bus home … still, at least I have orientated myself to the city ready for my next visit (which, I am told, will be early next year)…