The Good Lady and I had a few days in Edinburgh.
From the roof of the National Museum of Scotland – the castle on the left.
It must have been harsh around here at the close of the Ice Age. This is from a bog in Fife (where you needs must sup wi’ a lang spoon).
An old prophet gives it some welly. Perhaps Ezekiel – I forgot to make a note.
But Amida is nae bothered.
According to this, the Picts liked a wee tipple.
Close by the museum we paid homage to this staunch little chap.
According to Wikipedia the ‘traditional story’ has it that:Bobby belonged to John Gray, who worked for the Edinburgh City Police as a night watchman, and the two were inseparable for approximately two years. On 8 February 1858, Gray died of tuberculosis. He was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard, the graveyard surrounding Greyfriars Kirk in the Old Town of Edinburgh. Bobby, who survived Gray by fourteen years, is said to have spent the rest of his life sitting on his master’s grave. Another account has it that he spent a great deal of time at Gray’s grave, but that he left regularly for meals at a restaurant beside the graveyard, and may have spent colder winters in nearby houses.
In 1867, when it was argued that a dog without an owner should be destroyed, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir William Chambers—who was also a director of the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals—paid for Bobby’s license, making him the responsibility of the city council.
Bobby died in 1872 and could not be buried within the cemetery itself, since it was and remains consecrated ground. He was buried instead just inside the gate of Greyfriars Kirkyard, not far from John Gray’s grave.
Bobby spent his last years in this grim kirkyard.
The grave of Bobby’s master and on the right the grave of the man who cared for Bobby as he kept vigil.
The Flodden Wall skirts one side of the kirkyard, it was thrown up as defence after the defeat at Flodden. But the Earl of Surrey did not march north – read all about it in my novel ‘Tom Fleck’.
Meanwhile, in the Royal Mile, all is draped in tartan.
And, if you stand still, young ladies leave lipstick on your cheek.
You’d hardly know that the great philosopher, Hume, lived in this street (in 1730). He who brought on the enlightenment and changed the thinking of the people of the West – well a few of them, anyway.