The early Victorian tenements of Marchmont blushed faint pink in the sunlight. The peaked roofs visibly relaxed, bereft, as they suddenly were, of the generally overcast sky’s weight. Compared to the Old Town, Marchmont’s quiet rang in my ears. Blonde stone from some later period flickered in the unbroken wall of housing. I ambled among the streets to Arden Street, one-time home of Ian Rankin and perpetual home of his Detective Inspector Rebus.
Life imitates art imitates life.
In the limbo between Marchmont and the Meadows, a riot of tulips waited to erupt. But then you’d need to check out Traveling Savage’s Facebook fan page tomorrow to see that sumptuous sight.