Edinburgh Journal

Laura and I are here at the  Hilton Edinburgh Carlton near Ghille Dhu, Royal Mile. It’s a grand old building on North Bridge with thoroughly modern facilities,  The rooms are what I’ve come to expect from all the medical conferences I’ve been  luxuriously billeted at over the years.  It’s wheat colours and light blues.  We love the view of the Firth of Forth out the window. As a blue water sailor I was comforted last night seeing the flashing harbour lights.  A safe harbour.  

The view from our room with the flag of Scotland on the building to the left and the harbour in the distance,  We’re at 55-57’ degrees N and 3–11’ degrees W at an elevation of 80 meters looking 75 degrees East.

Yesterday when we landed from Amsterdam on the KLM City Hopper jet it was blue sky and sunny.  

Today it is cloudy and the forecast is rain.  Tomorrow is sunny.  We’ve changed our tentative plans for visiting the castle today to tomorrow.  Today we will make the National Art Gallery or the Museum of Childhood.  The hotel has a breakfast. I’ve showered and dressed. Laura is presently in the elegant bathroom. 

“They’ve even a rack for drying towels. I’ve used it for my panties and tights.”  She said. With only carryon luggage we’re hand washing and using hotel laundry services.  

My first thought was an early day shop. I’ve not packed a sweater which my Scottish friend Chris says is called a ‘jumper’.  Edinburgh is famous for Aran sweaters. I’m tempted also to find a jacket of hand made tweed.  Laura is keen to find some lotions and creams.

“I didn’t pack any because I didn’t want the airline to confiscate them as too much liquid.” She said.

I love her looks and smell and even tolerate her anxiety when she becomes tired. I used to become defensive when she became  irritable thinking it was because of  me, Now I just know she’s tired and cranky.  I get quiet and determined and resilient under stress but do appreciate her company now that I’m older.  I find it is hard to think under pressure with young people hurrying me, Like last night the most beautiful receptionist who pronounced my Hay name with most delightful lilt and I realized I’d been mispronouncing my own name all my life.  Then she asked me to use my Visa card and my brain misfiring under stress not remembering the password.  A line up of people had showed up suddenly behind me to check in. I could tell she was now feeling the pressure but was kind enought to take my card and enter it without my password.  Flustered I was thankful  for Laura to be with me at that moment.

Her ears are fine but she’s nearly blind and my ears are going so I was struggling to understand what the beautiful girl with the mask was saying as Laura confirmed, ‘You’re all done. We can go. She said,”  

My mother was deaf and my father blind in the end. He held onto his driver’s license to get them from the house to the bus line in the last years.  It was only a matter of blocks but he finally turned into a snow bank when she didn’t hear him asking ‘which way do I turn’.  The jig was up and they found he was too blind to drive. They sold the house shortly after that.

Laura only drives her little red Smart car on sunny days and I’ve hearing aids which stop the hotel neighbours from banging on the walls incessantly  when I’m watching tv.  The trouble is with glasses and masks and the high cost of sound I’m loathe to wear them out only to see them go flying thousands of dollars away when my glasses fog which happens always.  

It’s a bit of a muddle making this travelling in Covid challenging and adventurous.  I used to sail solo across oceans and bicycle across countries but now aging makes more mundane endeavours grand adventures.  It’s rather fun this challenge, especially with such gracious younger folk so ready to help.  I’ve noticed the women are quicker to notice I’m daft and offer assistance,