“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin’-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.” Robert Burns

I woke early and tried to book tickets to Edinburgh Castle on my phone. The webstore kept crashing, so I gave up and switched to searching out a Full Scottish breakfast. I found one a wee stroll away at a café called BBL or Breakfast Brunch and Lunch. We wandered out through parkland and past University buildings eventually  we arrived at the café. Despite its funky name it was a trad style greasy spoon. I ordered 2 Full Scottish Breakfasts. A Full Scottish differs from a Full English in that it includes haggis, a potato cake known at tattie scone, and usually a slice of square sausage known as Lorne sausage also they often come with a bread roll instead of toast.  Despite the establishment being known for its Lorne Sausage when our breakfasts arrived I saw they didn’t include Lorne sausage so I ordered us each a takeaway Lorne sausage bap for later.

After breakfast we set out for the castle. We wandered down and up to the Royal Mile and made our way up towards the castle accompanied by ¼ of Poland and ½ of Spain. A piper unleashed the sound of angels, at his foot a large buskers hat to catch the inevitable pounds, pence and cigarette butts, just to its side a card reader, all major credit cards accepted. Some roadworks forced the crowds to bottlenecks and I had to wait at the end of the ‘rapids’ for mum to appear in the flow of people. We emerged in the castle forecourt and after asking an attendant at the prebooked ticket kiosk we found a queue for on-the-spot tickets. When we got close enough to hear it became clear that there were no openings till 2pm. Having battled our way up the Royal Mile once we couldn’t face the prospect of doing it again in 4 hours’ time so we left the inner sanctum of the castle to the Zofias, Pawełs, Emilianos and Gabrielas.

Mum had seen a Museum of Childhood as we walked up so we wandered down and found it. As mum pored through the displays of dolls and bassinets and school desks I rested in front of show reals of children eating breakfast, lining up for school, and playing in the sun from the 1920’s 40’s and 50’s. I lightened my wallet of cash at the donation box and then lightened my credit card of funds at the gift shop as mum took ownership of a soft Paddington Bear that she initially declared too expensive before saying “I’ll take it!”

We set off for St Andrews Square. As we walked down a side street I caught sight of a gentleman in tweeds sat outside a pub, pipe in hand and pint of Guinness on the table in front of him. The image could have been from 1865, 1965 or it now seems 2025.  We passed a wee stairwell lane heading down from our street through the hillside block to a street below. One of the pubs I wanted to check out today was the Halfway House named as it was (not quite) half way up a steep staircase lane. Sure enough Google confirmed this was it so we made use of being above it and descended to the wee pub nestled on the side of the steps. Inside the pub there were a couple of groups of people. Closest to us were a group of young Northern Irish over for a rugby match. They were sprawled like Cleopatra across a bench seat and each other and were slowly yet systematically demolishing round after round of Guinness pints. We sat with our pints and ppl watched which is a polite way of saying eavesdropped. The bar man seemed to have to pull on the handumps which deliver real ale up from the cellar 20 times to fill each pint glass served. As much beer was slopped into a bucket as was delivered into the glass. A rotund person of fluid gender in their 50’s or 60’s came in, lungs heaving, they had clearly assaulted the stairs from the bottom. They asked for the finest lager with lime.  We finished our beers and continued on our way.

After crossing the railway station on a bridge we climbed up to St Andrews Square and found the next pub on the list , the Café Royal. Like it’s name suggests the Café Royal is pretty posh as far as pubs go. It has an impressive Victorian interior, large Doulton tile art works, and an oyster bar. We had a pint and a ½ before moving directly next door to the Guildford Arms. This pub was more my speed. Carpeted floors, high grand Victorian ceilings, the Guidford was full of average people discussing average problems over pints and glasses of house white. I ordered a pint of Orkney Dark Island, a beer and brewery I love. The young woman behind the bar was clearly on her first shift and looked to be hardly clear of high school. With trepidation and encouragement from her bar manager a perfectly sound pint was poured.  
Next stop was the Oxford Bar. Famous as a haunt of both the fictitious Detective John Rebus, and the real Ian Rankin. More personally it was a favourite of my late friend Ted Verrity. The Oxford Bar is set in back lanes and very much a locals bar. The public bar area at the front was full of local gents discussing  football. I ordered a pint of Heavy and we took it onto a side room where a fire was roaring. The pint was hazier than the latest craft sensation but tasted ok so I drank it regardless. A middle aged couple came in and struck up conversation. They were from a fishing town to the north. They were holidaying prior to moving house. They were in this pub for the Rebus connection. We discussed New Zealand and our trip. We discussed their downsizing move . We discussed Edinburgh. The cellar work might need some attention here but this was a pub that works as pubs are meant to work. Conversation flowed with ease. I can see what Ted saw in it.

We caught an Uber back to our guesthouse where cups of tea fed our bodies and electrical current fed my devices. We were to meet my old friend Callum Bell and after replenishing body and batteries we set off a block or two to a craft beer bar with a Tour de France theme called the Ventoux. There we met Callum and Guinness and Schlenkerla Rauchbier flowed. Then we wandered up to The Belfry before bidding Calum goodnight. We ended up in a nearby kebab shop where we indulged in another strangely vegetable-phobic donna kebab concoction of meat, rice humus and sauces. Each tray came with 2 single stands of red cabbage and 2 slices of carrot. We repaired to Bennets one last time and providence smiled upon us. The jug bar was free so we slipped in and enjoyed our final double whiskies in Scotland, mine with a ½ of Orkney Dark Island on the side, in the tiny private bar.