We caught the train from London, King’s Cross, to Edinburgh. We did not take a plane.
Planes travel faster than trains, but everyone plays silly-buggers for a few hours before getting on a plane. Metal-detector scans. Discarding fluid. Putting things in transparent baggies. Taking off shoes. Taking off belts. Taking off pants and bending over. X-rays. Suspicious looks. Cattle-herding. What fun it all is.
Then, once on the plane you get to simulate Houdini confinement chamber experiences.
Trains are not like this. Trains are pleasant. There is space on a train. There are no queues getting on the train, and best of all, no-one looks at you as if you are carrying concealed weapons while you travel on a train.
That said, trains do have drawbacks. Drunken people get on trains and get a little rowdy, but mostly they stay near the bar.
We went to Edinburgh to help Jen and Kyle move house.
Jen paid good money to get us up north to help her move her belongings from one flat to another. Angie and I were lazy workers, and she could probably regretted not hiring more dedicated manual labourers who lived nearby (but possibly spoke in funny accents).
When not conducting heavy lifting, we watched Scottish people spit on the floor. Then Angie and Jen stood in the spittle. Apparently this spitting is good luck, but I wasn’t having any of it.
In general, Edinburgh is a really beautiful and magnificent place. Not surprisingly, they have Indian people and Indian Restaurants (the whole of the UK is like that). Jen and Kyle took us to one (a restaurant, not a person) as pre-payment for helping them move house the following day.
Kushi’s (apparently world famous Indian cuisine. First I’d heard of it)
Edinburgh also has a castle, and if one cares to, they can visit it. We didn’t. They wanted £11 each.
Instead, we wandered about in the former moaty/lochy area that once, Jen tells us, was the dumping ground of all of Edinburgh’s sewage. The flora in the area was certainly thriving.
Then, Jen asked me the time. It was almost 1pm.
Excellent, they fire the canon every day at 1pm. Despite expecting a loud banging noise, I still jumped a metre or so into the air on hearing the canon go off, much to the amusement of the locals sitting behind me on a bench.
Edinburgh also has the “Baked Potato Shop.” I should have taken a photo of this shop. If you ever go to Edinburgh you have to go the this shop. Jen and Kyle raved about it. I was not convinced — until I received, and tasted my order.
One thought on “Tale of Three Cities — Part 3”
Hooray for the spittle. Hooray for the cannon. Hooray for the Potato shop. And mostly, three cheers for the families who braved the Scots to come and visit us!