It's about half four in the morning and we are scaling the
side of Arthur's seat to see the city that I love wake up. The wind is crisp
and the ground is damp from yesterday's downpour. We're not really dressed for
the climb but the warmth of the white wine and beer is keeping out the cold. I
can feel my lungs straining and my legs burning with every stone that I scale.
Every twenty metres calls for another break; a gulp of ginger beer and half a
sausage roll bought from the twenty-four hour shop. Onwards.
Gibbering from the wine and the fresh air, the topics of
conversation vary and undulate like the splendour of the Pentland Hills to our
right. But we are silenced as the sun wearily raises itself from behind the
horizon, gently warming the city and the early morning runners below. We can
see the glint in the eye of the university campus, the welcoming arms of
Waverley station and the majesty of the Castle. Edinburgh glows and rises from
another night's sleep. My Edinburgh. Our Edinburgh.
We somehow reach the summit. My heart tells me something
different from my legs, and so we reach the summit. The gentle flutter of a
single magpie passes our heads and the morning giddiness of overnight guests
litters the place with giggles and groans. I take the weight off my legs,
finding a smooth stone from which to observe. My phone is out - photos and
videos - before I remember myself and choose to take in this morning through my
own eyes rather than the screen of my phone. I'll wake up tomorrow with a
headache, but it'll be soothed by the memories of this moment.
The clouds are now unable to contain the sun as it slices a
seething hot scar through the water. The ripples are caught by its rays and as
the sun takes up its position, the water heals itself. The scar becomes a
reflection, and the reflection is soon forgotten. We'll have to wait until
sunset for the show to start again. It'll have to be in a dream though - I've
been up for almost twenty-four hours.
I reflect, rejecting the idea of ever leaving this place behind,
knowing that there is something to be forged in the streets and buildings of
this great city. Somewhere down there are the buildings of my undergraduate
degree. Somewhere down there is the building where I'll study next year.
Somewhere down there is the office I'll start work next summer. Somewhere down
there are the people who will have a role to play in what happens next.
Somewhere down there might be the girl I dream about.
And so we trudge back down there. First to bed and we'll see
what happens after that. Fittingly I slip and slide and fall over, but I dust
myself down and get back to the path again. Loose stones, loose words, and
people letting loose. But I can't lose. I walk through the streets where few
people walk and those who do look as tired as I feel. Buses, little models from
atop the Seat, roar past - trams too. I feel like asking the birds to stop
whistling and the crossings to stop beeping. But this city is a morning person,
and I would never ask her to be who she is not. My Edinburgh.
To bed, and we'll see what happens after that.
