Graduation

A perfect few days in Edinburgh with the family for my elder daughter’s graduation. She got a first in History and because it’s Scotland her degree, which took four years, is an M.A.

It should have been a six-hour drive to get there but a horrendous crash on the other side of the M6 meant it took over eight. Having left before 9am, no sooner had we arrived at our Airbnb (we splashed out on a large, central flat for the five of us) at around 5.30 than it was time to go out to meet friends I had made on a wildlife trip. It was lovely to see them after several years and as it turned out we were able simply to pick up where we left off – always a good sign. A bottle of wine at Nor’ Loft with great views over the city and an extremely delicious Nepalese curry at the Gurkha Cafe on Cockburn Street: all the usual Indian favourites and some more unusual dishes with interesting, spicy flavours. The interior is unpretentious with a warm, homely vibe and the service was impeccable.

The graduation ceremony was at the wonderful McEwan Hall designed by Sir Robert Rowland Anderson in early Italian Renaissance style. William McEwan, the benefactor, was a brewer and MP. The extraordinarily beautiful decoration is by William Mainwaring Palin (who combines two great comedy names), the dome divided into fifteen panels each painted with a seated female, most of them holding an instrument to represent a particular academic discipline. These surroundings and stirring organ music lent an air of gravitas to the proceedings. The speeches were not too long and a small choir sang ‘The Birds’ Lullaby’ by Sarah Quartel, ‘Dream Angus’ by John Powell and, for light relief, ‘Summer Holiday’ which was doubly appropriate since my late grandmother was a huge Cliff Richard fan. I tried not at all to hold back tears of pride as my gowned daughter transformed from graduand (a new word to me – no longer an undergraduate but not yet officially graduated) to graduate, with a touch on the head of the Vice Chancellor’s hat. My other daughter felt that there was something cultish about it all and certainly the robes, the solemn procession and the ritual itself bore shades of Harry Potter – but of course J.K. Rowling took from this, not the other way around. I am not a fan, except in the sense that the books got children reading. I don’t view her as a good writer but she is definitely plagiaristic from various sources (Tolkien and Enid Blyton to name but two).

Two glasses of prosecco each at the reception outside afterwards refreshed us.

I popped to Seamus’s Pub right next door to our Airbnb with a crossword where a man came up to me, pointing with absolutely no aggression: “You’re from the South Queensferry area.” I assured him that I was not and he left. These things seem to tend to happen to me. Dinner at The Outsider – it was fine but the staff were clearly overworked and very stressed and it showed in the cooking unfortunately. I had a bowl of large whitebait. For some reason they’d put the aioli underneath the fish amongst the green leaves – I didn’t really find it until I had nearly finished. Very odd.

The next morning we climbed Arthur’s Seat (not King Arthur’s Seat although it’s possible there’s a link). I have just started reading David Mitchell’s Unruly, a History of England’s Kings and Queens, Michael Joseph, 2023. I’d seen him interviewed about it and thought it would be witty and educative. It is both but I am not sure I will persist with it. I like David Mitchell and his wife, Victoria Coren Mitchell, is terrific on Only Connect. And I adore Peep Show. He’s good on panel shows but has a tendency to overuse reductio ad absurdum. It’s a neat rhetorical device but doesn’t usually hold water and if you overuse it, as he does, it loses its efficacy. And that and certain other repetitive verbal tricks quickly began to grate. In Unruly, the author declares his certainty that King Arthur simply didn’t exist.

Loch Dunsapie

Arthur’s Seat is a one of a number of forts in the park, atop an ancient volcano

If there had been a prize for the most inappropriate footwear, I would have won it. The climb was gentle (ish) but suede shoes with zero grip were not the best for the last, rocky section. People die up there in the wrong weather. But we were blessed with sunshine and a light breeze and the views over the city were spectacular. Finally lunch in Biggar on the way home at the very welcoming The Crown Inn, a seventeenth-century coaching stop – mostly simple food cooked well with the best chips I have had in a very long time. It amazes me that so many pubs fail to get these basics right.

We stopped both ways at Old Tebay service station, the nation’s second favourite and surely the poshest with a duckpond, waterfall, nature area and shops selling other than the typical service station rubbish. Strong hints of Waitrose for travellers. It must have cost a fortune to build but it was very busy and clearly highly profitable. A rather vague newspaper article about the need to rebuild a number of poorly constructed road bridges includes the figure for it of £30m in turnover, which they fear they will lose during the works. It employs 450 people and supports 90 suppliers.

I liked Edinburgh much more than I have previously. I find all that granite rather dark and oppressive, but the city felt lively and a lot of people were there to celebrate.