Surviving the heatwave

I'm surviving the canicule blanketing Europe by going in my imagination to Edinburgh, my second favorite city, from my southern France hidey hole. Edinburgh is my second favorite city in the world.

I'm helped in my mental travels by recent videos of the Scottish in Boston, my first favorite city. These kilt-wearing, bag-pipe playing men were there for the World Cup. There was even a couple of frames of Irn Bru in one shot.

I'm transported even better to Edinburgh by Robin Pilcher's novel Starburst, set during the Edinburgh Fringe. I can see myself walking down the streets I know that she has mentioned.

In the 80s, I became enraptured by professional storytelling in Boston when, along with a Wiggleworth Street neighbor, an elderly anthropologist, we saw a young group of actors tell stories on stage. The first story one the actor played Kermit the Frog moaning he had to go through life with a hand up his butt. 

Not only am I in Edinburgh mentally now, I'm reminded of the Edinburgh Story festival. I ran into it by accident. My husband was in Scotland to play a hickory golf tournament and we couldn't not stop in Edinburgh and discovered the festival. 

Look at past programmes. I would have loved to see all of them.

Most events were held at the John Knox center, that nasty, religious bigot who made Mary Queen of Scots' life difficult. His old home is also a museum. 

On previous trips we did the writer's tour, writer's museum, other museums, stood where Mary Queen of Scots saw her alleged lover David Rizzio murdered, listened to countless bagpipes, met the prototype for Ian Rankin's Rebus, eaten mac and cheese, scoffed scones with copious cups of tea, walked the Royal Mile, and many side streets, did badly in a pub quiz admired adverts for pantomimes and much, much more more. 

I'm happy that I was able to do the story festival at all rather than mourn that I can't go to every story during a whole festival. Concentrating on the positive rather than think of the negative helps keep me cool as I mentally hop the Edinburgh bus and take my seat ready to hear the next story.