The breeze rolls gently in off the North Sea, the rain spritzing off the faded umbrellas scattered like pastel mushrooms along Princes Street Gardens.
The pints of Guinness pour freely and frequently, toasting Alexander Graham Bell and Ian Anderson.
A church bell tolls in the distance as mud-caked boots rise in unison for the short walk home for dinner.
Sounds lovely.
Posted by: Karen | February 11, 2008 at 07:59 AM
It does sound lovely.
I've not been yet--but hope to.
Posted by: Cyn | February 12, 2008 at 09:09 PM