Two weeks ago on Friday I went to Edinburgh again. It was pretty much a last-minute plan, caught in the honey trap laid by my friends K and Z:
J is having a house New Year Party on the 15 January, also, we haven’t seen you for ages…
On my first trip in summer 1995 I had no idea that the people I was meeting there would end up the finest friends one could hope for, all at once easy-going, sharp, warm, open and understanding. They taught me much (and not only wine, whisky & song!), and without them I surely wouldn’t be as outgoing as I am today. Which, if you know me, should send a shudder down your spine.
Quite possibly some of their radiance washed out on my perception of Edinburgh. Well, surely the city has its own undisputable brilliance, but do locations not also shine from the light of the people who dwell there?
Going back to the Edinburgh, along with a curious feeling of being back home, also conjures up a load of sweet memories and regrets. I even indulge in some Pondering Over Life during those fleeting moments when I am no longer sober, and not yet sloshed (some time between the second and third pint, usually).
This could be explained by my tendency to visit the same places every time I come back. With this dazzling 1 – 2 years frequency, the city’s changes are noticeable enough, yet not so dramatic to moan about the good old times like the old guys from the Muppet Show. Anyway, what I meant is, maybe these noticeable changes (as well as that which stayed the same) are perceived as a reflection of my own personal evolution? Or do these contemplative moods arise because part of my growing up and opening to the world started in this city?
Expect no answer in the next installment of this account. Rather, brace yourself for some frantic jogging along memory lane!