|Edinburgh in winter|
-- Bill Bryson, Notes from a Small Island, pg 56
|Perfect winter lunch; Bovril and venison roll|
On this dark Novembery evening, I could not agree more. What makes it even more wonderful, is when you head from that dark, gritty, seductive city to the top of a moor. They are two extremes in an impossibly short distance. I learned to fly eagles by taking the train to Edinburgh Waverley, meeting my friends Neil and John Hunter at the station entrance, and then driving to a nearby moor to fly the eagles. We'd spend the day chasing hares, and then I'd descend back into Waverley station and be home in Glasgow by evening.
Those were happy days.
|Eagle on hare; describing the flight|
Update: I've just seen this beautiful short piece by Rachel Dickinson on living in Edinburgh. As someone who ran away to Glasgow at 19 without knowing a soul, I found her writing moving.