Lecture? Lecture? What Lecture? Were going home nobody thinks about that when were going home, apart from maybe where the next effing and blinding 23 is going to come, its cold you know! The long winding road of Morningside always seems ten times longer when your going home, it never seems to end, like the yellow brick road. There’s M and S again still a lot of people inside I wonder if the lady from the RBS was going there to do her shopping, she’s probably still there. Aitken and Niven, lets order a blazer? then my friend says to me, “Hey, your not at George Watson’s hen!”. Just remembering the good old days at school, how much you have to mature since then, to go to university and act like adults. The bruntsfield hotel signals the winding road down into Tollcross has begun, wonder about who stays there takes over, how much does it cost a night, people in financial meltdown, either them or their credit card. The filmhouse, whats showing, ladies in velvet dresses and men in their bow ties, very extravagant, “No deary thats the Usher Hall”. Then we have the suited and booted executives from the Clydesdale Plaza, the ladies in their tottery high heels stopping every so often to cry “Owww me feet”, how they do not fall in them I do not know, and they obviously only sit at their desk all day as their feet would drop off from lack of circulation. I know home is near, at the Caledonian Hotel, big and grand just fit to match its outlook and friend on the hill opposite, the castle, the reason why Edinburgh is renowned for its beauty.