Arthurs Seat was damp and so was mine, after sitting in a puddle sketching this.
Dunsapie Loch and Portobello. It may look peaceful, but Arthurs Seat behind me was so busy there was even a busker entertaining the crowds.
Number 2 – Calton Hill
Evening view from Calton Hill
Calton Hill from near St Anthony’s Chapel ruins
Calton Hill from the Iron Duke
Number 3 – Waterstones Cafe Princes street
In Waterstones, I looked on with envy at the people languishing in the premium, bay window tables. Still, I did manage to wedge myself between a smaller window, the staircase and a discretely placed rodent trap to sketch the castle.
That view was wasted on him
Wedged in the window sill
Number 4 – National Museum of Scotland
Great museum with loads to see, including the Millenium clock. When it strikes the hour, Bach blares through hidden speakers and this 20th Century dedication to human suffering becomes a strange technicolour, rotating beast.
Edinburgh university from the roof
The Millennium clock – when death started swinging gleefully on the pendulum, I just had to sketch it!
Number 5 – The Royal Mile
Sunny and *not* raining at the same time
The Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art ‘2’, currently showing the ‘True to life’ exhibition. Well worth a visit.
Washington services on the A1(M) is a bleak, lonely place. I made the six hour drive from Brighton to enjoy a junk food dinner and fulfill a personal dream of sketching the motorway from a creepy footbridge. Both lived up to expectations.
Goumet dinning at the Washington Travelodge
7:30am on the A1(M)
Coincidentally, just up the road is Antony Gormley’s Angel of the North. It may be of the most viewed pieces of art in the world, but on this sunny Sunday morning, there was just me, and a man releasing his pigeons for their first flight home.
A satnav haunting
My next stop was Lindisfarne Castle, but the satnav led me astray, so I overshot the view I was looking for, ending up on the causeway to Holy Island. Time for a sketch in the drizzle, with one eye nervously on the tide, listening to Sue Perkins on Desert Island Discs. I assume this is the hut you have to break into when the sea covers the road.
After all that lapping water, I needed a toilet stop, but the satnav struck again at the nearby Barn and Beal. “Slide right! Slide right!” She shouted from my pocket. One flush and several startled patrons later and I was on the road to Portobello, a lovely coastal suburb of Edinburgh.
You have arrived at your destination, all is forgiven