The Daily Spittoon

On Saturday, I went to Scotland for the day. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see everything, but I understand there’s quite a lot of Scotland. I journeyed from my home in Lancaster to Edinburgh, on the earliest train possible – it was dark when I left the house, and it was dark when I arrived home again. For the trip, I did something that I think everyone should do once before they die: Take a mid-2000s mobile on a long train ride, for it is a liberating experience. I recently bought a Nokia 105. It talks and texts but that’s basically it, and even then it does them to a disappointing level.

Being without a smartphone or any other technology besides my trusty Nokia, my only company was the built in FM Radio and in hindsight, FM radios are not really built for trains. Firstly, they struggle with moving places quickly, which is what a train does quite well, and a journey through the Cumbrian countryside quickly turns into a festival of static and frantically auto-tuning in a bid to reconnect with whoever does weekend breakfast on Radio 2. Secondly, FM Radios and tunnels are not the best of friends, and my device went into a huff every time we went through one.

Even so, it was an utterly enjoyable experience. I napped when the radio didn’t have signal, I read my book. There was an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia from childhood holidays, travelling with the radio on – a medium that I feel is becoming forgotten in this era of iPods and music streaming. I swapped between Radio 2 and Radio 4, I got my fix of Elton John and political discussion and I arrived at Waverley just before 10 am.

Customarily it was cold and rainy as I arrived; Edinburgh in October can feel a bit subdued after the overwhelming vibrancy of the festival season. The quote from Trainspotting kept ringing through my mind, “It’s shite being Scottish, we’re the lowest of the low!” as I found a taxi with the rain coming down and the wind howling. I met my family, celebrated my father’s graduation, and went for lunch, by which time it had brightened up, and instantly the city began to bloom.

There’s a lovely architectural contrast in Edinburgh between the Old and New Towns, separated by Princes Street Gardens. Princes Street itself is now a main shopping street but the grandeur of the New Town, built in the Georgian Era, still shows through in some of the buildings with decorative balustrades and rigorously symmetrical design. The Old Town on the other hand has a very different feel, it personifies a more defensive and closed psyche. Clustered around Castle Hill, streets are narrow and winding with the Castle itself on top of the craggy rock at one end of the Royal Mile, which is normally saturated with people during festival season.

It was refreshing to visit Edinburgh at a time other than festival season and get a glimpse of the real city. It has a relatively higher percentage of Scottish people for the other 11 months of the year, which may or may not be a good thing, but there is a wealth of places of interest that are somewhat forgotten about when the festival is the priority.

There is so much that I haven’t done in Edinburgh, I’ve never ridden the tram system, I’ve never sat atop Arthur’s Seat, I’ve never visited Holyrood Palace, and on this visit I did very little, but it was a wonderful visit nevertheless. I walked through Princes Street Gardens, appreciated the buildings and spent some great time with family. Then I went back to Waverley Station, turned my FM Radio back on, and settled in for the journey home.