Phew! What a place! Our apartment is on the 4th floor or 75 stairs for those who like bigger numbers, on Upper Bow and High Street. When sitting on the window seat, we can watch the revelers of the Fringe Festival passing by below and later in the evening can stick our heads out the window and watch the fireworks at the castle. Last night, two bands of pipers from the Tattoo marched down the hill and turned the corner outside our window. In the evening, we wandered the streets of the old town and when we climbed one particularly steep, dark and mostly deserted hill with the silhouetted figure of a man under a distant street lamp, Sharon recalled that Ian Rankin wrote a lot of his murder mystery novels about these particular locations. The security guard under the lamp wished us a good evening.
The Indian in the turban who sold Sharon a tartan and a book about the Gordon Highlanders, said he makes all of his money in these few weeks and really doesn’t have to work for the rest of the year.