There is nothing so pleasurable as Ould Reekie on a post Fish pre Spring day with the air balmy and the sun threatening to shine. There are some drawbacks-the sun, once it emerges, attracts the bag pipe players, professional Scots to a man (I have never seen a woman player on the streets but I hear that our local SNP candidate is no mean performer) all warming up, in both senses of the word, for the annual invasion of the forriners , many of whom are generous or gullible enough to part with specie after seeing the beskirted musicians strut their stuff-kilts swirling, sporrans jangling with shiny pound coins within, illegally carried offensive weapons stuck into their socks, shiny buckles, er, shining, and a haunting melody lifting the pigeons off the roofs of the tenements-still startled by this assault on the senses, despite having heard it so many times before. Then in the deafening silence which follows' Over the Sea to Skye' or 'Many a Mickey takes a Muckle' or whatever, the passing of money from spectator to performer as one pauses for a quick drag and the other passes gratefully along only to be subjected to further cruel and unusual punishment a few blocks later. But they will usually pay up again-it is part of the Great Edinburgh Experience and few pleasures in life are truly free
