Journeys

The red shop front of Lupe Pintos contains a window display crammed full of delicious looking Mexican foodstuffs, inspiring even the healthiest of passersby to consider devouring a burrito or two later in the day. The bustling crossroads at Holy Corner play host to car loads of bickering children and sleepy parents on the early morning school run. A herd of older, maroon blazer wearing pupils shuffle along the pavement beside Morningside Station in the drizzle, doing their best to block the way for an irritable looking woman pushing a pram to pass. Along Balcarres Street two overall-clad mechanics puff away enjoying a cigarette break outside the main entrance to the Saab garage. As the bus turns left on to the steep road that leads up to Craighouse, a dull grinding of the wheels makes me think we won’t quite make it up the incline. Perhaps we’ll have to walk the rest of the way. The driver mutters something, revs a little, and we are soon back on course. It is going to be one of those days.

Condensation clouds the windows of The Waiting Room public house which I guess is down to a central heating discrepancy – squinting through the steamy panes you can see that the place is deserted. The cheeses wink at me from their home in the front display of IJ Mellis (making this Weight Watchers member avert her brie loving eyes.) The Bruntsfield Hotel stands proud and alert in the spotlights, gazing over the dreich links where a dog walker in the foreground lets her hound off the lead to roam and sniff and enjoy a bit of freedom. Expensive looking bicycles gleam from the interior of Velo Ecosse, above which its familiar yellow sign commands the attention of top-deck passengers on the 23 as the bus progresses down the winding road into Tollcross.

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