The old woman who lived in a shoe

And had so many children she honestly did not know where to put them. Well, I'd like to think that I've managed a bit better in arranging sleeping quarters for my five friends who came to visit me in Edinburgh, and in the minuscule flat. The evening scenes were reminiscent of the dwarfs from Disney's Snow White, although, in the end, no one slept in the cupboard.

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Layered jelly in all its splendour.

I celebrated their arrival by making layered jelly. Living alone brings out the Monica in me, seriously! Still, I've always wanted to make it. I remember it being one of the few desserts available when I was a child; even the most basic cafe always had tall glasses of layered jelly, or jelly cut up in cubes, standing in the refrigerated glass displays, gathering dust. It was served with an optional dollop of whipped cream. Which was not a great idea really, melting cream on warming up jelly is not terrible appealing. Still, it has sentimental value so as I was waiting for the guys and girls to arrive I played around with layers of green and yellow. You have to make a portion of jelly first, pour it into glasses, wait for it to cool, put it in the fridge, wait for it to set, and repeat. It takes a long time. Also, foolishly, I used all the glasses I had in the house in the process, so I had nothing to serve tea in when my long awaited guests finally made it there. Jelly requires sacrifices.

On the following day, childishness continued. First, we had a copious brunch in the National Gallery Cafe. Following a friend's suggestion I ordered a buttery, and very soon it turned out that one is not enough. Apparently from Aberdeen, the buttery is the ugly cousin of a croissant. It does actually look like a croissant that somebody sat on, but do not let the appearances fool you, for it is far superior to a croissant in taste. It is just more buttery I suppose! Highly recommended.

The Water of Leith.

From there we paid a brief visit to the Royal Mile and the castle, and then decided to walk along the river towards the sea. It was a lovely day, and the first time I have really felt the spring is on its way. I've never explored that section of the Water of Leith before, and now I'm looking forward to walking it again through small parks, along the water, and emerging into the quay.

Spring comes to Victoria Quay.

Somehow we were inspired to continue along the water (ok, it was my idea), which was not easy one you passed Victoria Quay. I was shocked to discover that the only way to get into the Britannia Royal Yacht is to pass through a commercial centre. You can't even see it from the embankment as the whole area around it is a closed car park with high fencing and scary signs. As much as I wanted to see it, I am now intent on boycotting it.

At the port.

Where the cormorans hang out.

We pushed on West along shopping malls, through roadworks, past massive siloses, and through new urban developments. Feeling teenagy and silly we snacked on goo eggs and kept walking in spite of everything until we reached Newhaven harbour. We were all tired and hungry by then, so the unexpected appearance of the lovely harbour was a delightful surprise. The sun was just beginning to descend, the bay was calm, and we could see clear across to the other side. It was irresistible. There was a pub, too. What was to be done? We got pints and sat on the cobbles by the water's edge to watch the tide lick the stones, and to admire the white lighthouse, and to spy on kayakers, and to let the view seep in.

Newhaven harbour.

Kayaking in the Firth.

It was excellent, nearly summery, with the low sun and the lazy sound of the waves, the sound of my Polish summers. The view was vast. We sat there and chatted until it got cool and moved on back to our communal burrow. Then we feasted on take away food, dragged out the mattresses, sprawled out and watched a weird Cohen brothers movie until late, sipping beer. When it finished, we all fell asleep in the same room in a big heap. It was practically a slumber party, a perfect end to a teenage day.

Dream-like vision of spider man and lighthouse at Newhaven.

Leith

Aslightly topsy view of Victoria Quay.

The Scottish Government has quite a few buildings around Edinburgh , with the most spectacular being St Andrew’s House, overlooking the train station, it’s art-deco form seemingly growing out of sheer rock. The main building of the administration, however, is Victoria Quay, a new building on the site of a disused dock.

The picture of the Queen, discreetly placed in the lobby.

The place does have a rather marine feel, and is nicely isolated from its surroundings by a row of Georgian warehouses converted into flats and restaurants. The main stairwell resembles the inside of a lighthouse, and there is a lot of open space in the building, with light-wells, glass corridors, and open staircases which wobble precariously but look pretty.

The main stariwell.

And, if you’re office is on the right side of the building, you can look straight into Leith docs and spy on massive oceanic transport ships loading and unloading, coming and leaving, followed by flocks of wailing seagulls… And, cradling your warm cup of tea, you can look upon the open sky above the sea and the waters of the dock, swept by cold wind and rain while you’re all safe and cosy on the other side of the glass window. I think it’s a great place to work in, introverted, modern, and exposed to the elements. As a result, I spend the best part of my working day staring dreamingly out of the window…

Leith, the canal enters the docks.

The dreamlike atmosphere of the day continued as with a friend I transferred from the steel-and-glass Victoria Quay into the cosy and quirky Roseleaf Bar and Café. The interior won me over instantly. When you look around the place, it is obvious it is someone’s brain-child, the fruit of many a sleepless night spent planning, plotting, lovingly designing every detail… The speakers wore hats. There was a collection of tacky porcelain animals above the bar. There were antique lamps, mismatched chairs, and candles in rose-decorated teacups. Artificial flowers wound themselves around the bar, all dark wood and tarnished mirrors. But what really made me convinced this was a good place to spend an evening with was the answer to my question about white wine by the glass – they had five on the go… Five! Unheard of. And none of them was Chardonnay.

A few hours and more than a few wine glasses later me and my friend decided to give food a chance, and we were presented with copies of National Geographic, with the menu stuck neatly between the pages. They were historical copies, from the 1960s, and we spent a long time marvelling at the passing of time. The magazine we were leafing through was more than fifty years old, this is two generations, but it seems it is destined to retire as a menu holder.

Blast from the past.