Another Dreich Sabbath

The second Sunday of the Festival to be blighted with gloomy wet weather, showing Edinburgh at its worst. It rained through the night, it rained most of the day, with the mist descending over the City obliterating the sights the tourists had come to see. All that seemed missing from the scene, as depicted in those old Scottish paintings that hang in baronial halls, was a rain soaked highland cow staring into space .

There was an endless procession of umbrellas tramping the paths of the Meadows, their owners eager to find solace in an indoor Festival production in town. The misery lessened slightly as it dried up about 3pm, but only to leave a dark cheerless afternoon behind. Dreich is such a wonderful Scottish word to describe the day.

I met someone today I thought I recognised, possibly from my schooldays. We got talking and eventually I felt I could ask the ‘Edinburgh Question’, which no one who wasn’t brought up in Edinburgh in the 50s would understand- ‘Which school did you go to ?’. I was correct, she was 2 years below me at school. Result, meaning we had a whole range of common reminiscences to discuss.