come and gone
Nov. 20th, 2004 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
percivalIt was chilly day in Edinburgh. Town and castle were bathed in the rich wintery glow of the sun. Two women sat in Waterstone's bookstore, high above teeming Princes' Street, and talked about everything and nothing over a hot chocolate and a coffee. Afterwards, they wandered to the National Portrait Gallery, gathering strength for their long walk along George Street by stopping in yet another bookshop.
At the Portrait Gallery, photos of the Edinburgh leaders of all faiths awaited them - and a photo of a certain writer, whose work had led them to meet first virtually, then in the flesh. Speaking of which, they now needed some more physical sustenance, because the latte and the chocolate had been digested. So they sat down to lunch with an aspiring young marine biologist at the Portrait Gallery Cafe, which incidentally was another favourite haunt of the writer who'd brought them together.
Fortified by the lunch, they climbed up from Princes Street to the heights of the Royal Mile. There, in Lady Stairs House, they encountered the tales of woe that are the lives of Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson. The artists' suffering so impressed our three ladies that they decided to give themselves over to some more frivolous pursuits afterwards. The biologist went shopping, the two women took the bus to a warm and welcoming flat where the guest received an hour-long massage, which segued neatly into dinner. Sadly, this marked the end of the two women's day together - the guest had to take the train back to York, where her car was waiting. The women made the long arduous journey to the station together, but after a hot chocolate, the guest had to be left to board a train full of chanting lager louts, leaving her hostess to fight her way back to the chilly bus stop.
Come back soon,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cynthiablack! There's much more to see and do ...
At the Portrait Gallery, photos of the Edinburgh leaders of all faiths awaited them - and a photo of a certain writer, whose work had led them to meet first virtually, then in the flesh. Speaking of which, they now needed some more physical sustenance, because the latte and the chocolate had been digested. So they sat down to lunch with an aspiring young marine biologist at the Portrait Gallery Cafe, which incidentally was another favourite haunt of the writer who'd brought them together.
Fortified by the lunch, they climbed up from Princes Street to the heights of the Royal Mile. There, in Lady Stairs House, they encountered the tales of woe that are the lives of Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson. The artists' suffering so impressed our three ladies that they decided to give themselves over to some more frivolous pursuits afterwards. The biologist went shopping, the two women took the bus to a warm and welcoming flat where the guest received an hour-long massage, which segued neatly into dinner. Sadly, this marked the end of the two women's day together - the guest had to take the train back to York, where her car was waiting. The women made the long arduous journey to the station together, but after a hot chocolate, the guest had to be left to board a train full of chanting lager louts, leaving her hostess to fight her way back to the chilly bus stop.
Come back soon,
cynthiablack! There's much more to see and do ...
