A Stroll Through A Field.

Date: 15/08/11
Author: Peter

It’s a beautiful evening. Beautiful is an over used word, but on this occasion its exploitation is perfect. I’ve got a couple of days off. My ‘mini-break’ begins with an attempted jog to the bottom of Arthur's Seat (the massive mountain thing in the middle of Edinburgh). After half an hour of badly judged navigation through the cobbled streets onto a more modern estate, I realize I'm now at least a mile past Arthur’s Seat, but on the opposite side. Twenty minutes later I’ve been through a private golf course and climbed a small wall, and am still as far from the mountain as ever. Oh well.

One shower later and I’m leisurely strolling through the Meadows. It’s about 8.30 and the air’s still surprisingly warm. Nothing to rival Mediterranean standards of course, but a rare and more than welcome occurrence here. The distant echoes of The Proclaimers greatest hit (let’s be honest, It doesn’t need to be named) follows me past the white tents of the Moscow state circus, which, weirdly, I’ve seen before in Bracknell. I wonder if they’re still using the same bearded lady.

A cute brunette sat smoking on a bench tosses a smile at me confidently. At eye contact I glance away, embarrassed. Just when you though the schoolboy self confidence issues had finally waved goodbye. I turn my attention to the Rich Fuller poster I’m approaching. Some witty soul has drawn a penis on his forehead. Ah, the culture of Edinburgh.

Two good looking blondes in their early twenties are fast approaching. This time I grin (at the less attractive of the two. More of a sure result?) and they both grimace back at me as if I’m some sort of deranged sex offender. Rejection floods through my subconscious, and is interrupted by a buzz from my pocket. A text on my sexy new Alcatel. From ‘mum’. Brilliant. If it had been on an iphone at least I’d feel trendy.

In retrospect the cute brunette was probably a sex worker.

Some spoken word and a Shakespeare later I walk home. It’s dark now. The pubs are still bustling and kebab production is already in full swing. The mood of the city has shifted. But the evening is still beautiful.

This is what pretentious theatre has done to me.