Diary of an Edinburgher

By LadyMarchmont

More Diplomatic Relations

Up to the doc’s early for a blood test - I’m hoping I’m filled to brim with Vitamin D. Although if I am, then it’s overrated, because I’m still tired and aching. Back in time for a chap who came to quote on a removal. Also a phone call to the solicitor - everything seems to be going along as normal, there’s definitely no rush with them - they just fire standard letters back and forth, deleting each other's conditions, until it’s all settled. But I think I’ll just hold off confirming the removal as I see there’s a cancellation penalty...

Have to renew the parking permit, had a look to do it online, and it looked slightly complicated, so I just popped into town to do it in person. I think I did it that way last year.

As I came round by St Giles I noticed a line up of men with humungous lenses, all standing looking at the closed doors of the Cathedral. Aha! Something was about to happen. It’s amazing how often this happens as you walk round Edinburgh. If you time it right.

Yes, the Clan Chiefs were about to come out. That’ll do!

Soon we were joined by dozens of others, mainly tourists, I think, in expectation of something…

Most of the men were in kilts and looked splendid. There appeared to be just one woman chief - it took them ages to get them organised on the steps for the official photos. I was dotting back and forth, trying to get near and get good angles on the most colourful characters. At one point I looked behind me to check that I wasn’t too much in the way of other photographers.

A woman was raising her hands in exasperation and shouted at me, pointing at her camera.

That’s TWICE!’ But she didn’t look too hostile.

So as soon as she put her camera up again, I did a star jump right in front of her. That made it THREE times!

She laughed, fortunately. And said in a very German accent,
You are in Bavaria now,’ pointing to her camera. ‘We are Celts too.’ We shook hands and obviously Bavarian/Scottish diplomatic relations are not affected by the incident.

Popped into the Council Offices to quickly renew the permit. No. Nothing quick happens in there. The number machine was broken, and so you got a wee bit of paper with a number written on it. Mine was 1267. The two girls (at the six available desks) kept forgetting what number they were up to and asking each other. It was a bit of a shambles, but the lady at the desk blamed the students (there were none renewing parking permits). She advised us all to go home and do it online, as there was a very long wait. Someone suggested more staff, which was greeted with a snort and a request that the woman come and be the boss.

Still, I got this fine chap with a fine beard and a fine Chain of Office. And I think he had a fine ponytail too. So it wasn’t all a waste of time.

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.