Edinburgh festivals 2013
I'm just at the end now of the family holiday in Edinburgh, where we go each year for the festivals. I've been back in Scotland two or three times since I left last August, but this time I've been hit more strongly than ever by the sense of home I get here.
It started just about as soon as it could start. The train up arrived in the station, I was first at the door, listening to some avant-garde Irish music; and waiting to get on as I was getting off was an Irish post-doc I knew from Taste. I don't know her well - in fact, I don't believe I know her name - but here's the point, an old acquaintance's was literally the first face I saw in Scotland. And not just a Scottish, but an Irish face. We reminded each other of who we were, and then she had to rush to get on to the train, so that was too brief.
I bumped into a couple of old St Andrews people - one in a coffee shop, one trying her hand as a macaron merchant - and spent some nice - ever inadequate, but still, inadequate - time with some good old St Andrews friends who live in Edinburgh now. (I'll really miss them when I leave on Monday.)
I made it to St Andrews itself one day, for a friend's birthday (SCHMETTERLINGGEBURSTAG ZU BEFEHL!!!). I arrived, with Bren, who went off to the birthday house directly, and made my way to Taste along a path that's familiar to me only since I've left St Andrews. I knew the guy behind the counter, had a brief chat with him, made myself a coffee, ate a perfect panini which he brought to me as I was catching up with the angel of a manager upstairs. Then I went to the local bottle shop to get some beer for the party (and some whisky for myself), and the girl behind the counter was very friendly indeed - I went for the Talisker (memories of Skye, even if I couldn't drink the stuff when I was there, so unused to spirits I was), and she told me I was a man after her own heart - well, someone was after someone's something - - and of course because I live four hundred miles away and wasn't even staying the night in St Andrews I made my excuses and ran away, but this is still a lovely thing to have happen one.
On the way from the bottle shop to the party I ran into yet another old friend! and a bit later two ten-year-old girls:
"What's your name!?"
"Hello! My name is James! What's yours?"
"Rebecca!! No! Paula!"
"You can't make up your mind! Are you really Paula? Are you just pretending?"
"No I really am Paula! Do you know how old my friend is?"
[Don't offend the poor thing by getting the wrong age! Wait, do little girls mind less if you think they're older than they are or younger?] "Ooh, I don't know! Are you nine?"
"No, I'm six-"
"NO SHE'S TEN!"
"That's very nice." [Did I get away with that?]
And they were sharp. Later:
"What's your name?!"
"Ja- ah, my name is Tom!"
"NO IT'S NOT YOU SAID YOUR NAME WAS JAMES!"
Not that these two girls remembered me from when I lived there: but it's not common to be accosted so confidently by two little girls! Somehow, I feel, it's a thing happens at home. Doubtless that's, empirically, rubbish. But that's how it feels.
Then, just tonight, I went to Purcell's Dido and Aeneas and Bartók's Captain Bluebeard - they were on together because they're both so short. In looking for my seat I saw a beautiful girl in the row behind - oh, and it looks like I got the row wrong, she's my immediate neighbour! We went for a drink after the show - because I'm at home, I know where the good pub is, that serves Murphy's - and then there was a stand-up medley (her first stand-up!) at midnight. It was actually fantastic, and she really enjoyed it. (It was great to see her laugh!) Now nothing happened, except perhaps, we'll see, a friendship began - friends are alright, I guess - but the point is, I'd found a really interesting and cool girl, that I enjoyed talking to. In Southampton - much as I like the five people I count as friends there - I have barely, beyond those five, found anyone who doesn't bore me. I feel bored by Southampton as a whole, too. And granted no-one sings Southampton's praises: the point here is that however many its virtues may be, they're not, so far as I've seen, ones that lead me to feel at all at home there, or to fall for it in any way.
It started just about as soon as it could start. The train up arrived in the station, I was first at the door, listening to some avant-garde Irish music; and waiting to get on as I was getting off was an Irish post-doc I knew from Taste. I don't know her well - in fact, I don't believe I know her name - but here's the point, an old acquaintance's was literally the first face I saw in Scotland. And not just a Scottish, but an Irish face. We reminded each other of who we were, and then she had to rush to get on to the train, so that was too brief.
I bumped into a couple of old St Andrews people - one in a coffee shop, one trying her hand as a macaron merchant - and spent some nice - ever inadequate, but still, inadequate - time with some good old St Andrews friends who live in Edinburgh now. (I'll really miss them when I leave on Monday.)
I made it to St Andrews itself one day, for a friend's birthday (SCHMETTERLINGGEBURSTAG ZU BEFEHL!!!). I arrived, with Bren, who went off to the birthday house directly, and made my way to Taste along a path that's familiar to me only since I've left St Andrews. I knew the guy behind the counter, had a brief chat with him, made myself a coffee, ate a perfect panini which he brought to me as I was catching up with the angel of a manager upstairs. Then I went to the local bottle shop to get some beer for the party (and some whisky for myself), and the girl behind the counter was very friendly indeed - I went for the Talisker (memories of Skye, even if I couldn't drink the stuff when I was there, so unused to spirits I was), and she told me I was a man after her own heart - well, someone was after someone's something - - and of course because I live four hundred miles away and wasn't even staying the night in St Andrews I made my excuses and ran away, but this is still a lovely thing to have happen one.
On the way from the bottle shop to the party I ran into yet another old friend! and a bit later two ten-year-old girls:
"What's your name!?"
"Hello! My name is James! What's yours?"
"Rebecca!! No! Paula!"
"You can't make up your mind! Are you really Paula? Are you just pretending?"
"No I really am Paula! Do you know how old my friend is?"
[Don't offend the poor thing by getting the wrong age! Wait, do little girls mind less if you think they're older than they are or younger?] "Ooh, I don't know! Are you nine?"
"No, I'm six-"
"NO SHE'S TEN!"
"That's very nice." [Did I get away with that?]
And they were sharp. Later:
"What's your name?!"
"Ja- ah, my name is Tom!"
"NO IT'S NOT YOU SAID YOUR NAME WAS JAMES!"
Not that these two girls remembered me from when I lived there: but it's not common to be accosted so confidently by two little girls! Somehow, I feel, it's a thing happens at home. Doubtless that's, empirically, rubbish. But that's how it feels.
Then, just tonight, I went to Purcell's Dido and Aeneas and Bartók's Captain Bluebeard - they were on together because they're both so short. In looking for my seat I saw a beautiful girl in the row behind - oh, and it looks like I got the row wrong, she's my immediate neighbour! We went for a drink after the show - because I'm at home, I know where the good pub is, that serves Murphy's - and then there was a stand-up medley (her first stand-up!) at midnight. It was actually fantastic, and she really enjoyed it. (It was great to see her laugh!) Now nothing happened, except perhaps, we'll see, a friendship began - friends are alright, I guess - but the point is, I'd found a really interesting and cool girl, that I enjoyed talking to. In Southampton - much as I like the five people I count as friends there - I have barely, beyond those five, found anyone who doesn't bore me. I feel bored by Southampton as a whole, too. And granted no-one sings Southampton's praises: the point here is that however many its virtues may be, they're not, so far as I've seen, ones that lead me to feel at all at home there, or to fall for it in any way.