Architecture and Miralles...

But no Ted or Alice.

Though, to be fair, for all I know there may have been an Alice...

This morning I hauled my arse out of bed, showered, dressed, rolled a joint and headed into town. The High Street was my destination, so off I toddled. (I didn't literally toddle, I've become quite proficient in walking since I first started at about the age of one and a half.)

I've been threatening to pop into Yvoone's work for a couple of weeks now so just for the laughs, and having pledged to stay out of bookshops until I've caught up with my reading pile, I headed for Clarinda's Tea Shop. While walking down the High Street I looked around and saw swarms of Japanese tourists clicking away with digital cameras and decided that I'd have an attempt at seeing Edinburgh through their eyes. (I could throw in a deeply racist joke here by saying I squinted my eyes and put on an oriental accent but I'm not about to, so forget it.)

Clarinda's tea Room is a strange little place. Tucked away at the bottom of the High Street it offers an interesting dichotomy to the Starbucks on the other side of the road. The walls are covered in ancient looking portraits of persons unknown and blue and white china plates. The tables are covered in white knitted table covers and it has the feeling of quiet hospitality the likes of which you expect if Arthur Ransome had written a teashop into Swallows and Amazons.

As I sat down at a table next to the window I was approached by one of the staff. There was a distinct look of wonderment in her eyes and I could see that she was questioning why someone wearing a hoodie, jeans and a camouflage style bucket hat was sitting in a tearoom and not connecting to the internet by wi-fi in the Starbucks opposite. I ignored the slight look of wonderment on her face and asked for a coffee. As I waited I pulled off my hoodie and revealed my Terrorist? t-shirt. (I love scaring the straight.)

Less than a minute later Yvoone appeared with my coffee. She was shocked to see me, I inwardly reveled in the knowledge that she'd been caught off balance, but she smiled and told me she didn't think I'd have come in. I drank my coffee as she continued working, all the while letting the other staff know, without a shadow of a doubt, I wasn't her boyfriend. One of the bosses told Yvoone to get her lunchbreak so she sat and drank a coke while I finished my coffee. We took a walk outside and Yvoone had a cigarette while I lit the half joint I had in my cigarette packet. After finishing our respective smokes we walked back into the teashop and I picked up my hoodie and said cheerio to Yvoone.

I figured that as I was in the area I should take a walk down to Hollyrood Park where I could roll myself another joint and have a read at my book. (Machiavelli, if you're interested.) I wandered across the road and headed for the shop around the corner where I knew I'd be able to buy a pack of Rizla papers, a sandwich and a bottle of juice. I cut through a vennel that leads past the new Scottish Parliament and looked up at its bamboo covered windows and it's poured concrete blast walls to prevent car bombs from blowing large holes in it. (Not that I'd really give a fuck if someone did, as long as no-one got hurt. But more on that later...)

Having got my Rizlas and something to eat I walked towards Hollyrood Park. As there was a bit of a breeze I couldn't sit in the open space and roll a joint, without potential wind-related-joint-theft, so I walked across the road and headed onto Arthurs Seat to find a hollow where I could skin up out of the wind.

I walked about a hundred yards up Arthurs Seat and found a nice big lump of Volcanic rock that would protect me from any gusts of wind on a joint stealing mission and made a nice strong joint to smoke while I ate my lunch. I searched my Mp3 player for Radioheads Ok Computer and sat looking out over the top of the houses, monuments and church steeples of Edinburgh. As the joint began to take effect I remembered that I was supposed to be looking at Edinburgh as though I were a Japanese tourist. In a small private moment, that I wouldn't normally admit to, I pulled my eyes into slits and said "Ahhh so, is a velly plitty city." in an oriental accent.

As I sat looking down upon the new Scottish Parliament I found myself wondering what kind of drugs Enric Miralles had been on when he designed it. As you look out over Edinburgh you can see such historical landmarks as the Castle, the Scott Monument, Calton Hill Tower, the Tron Kirk and other interesting features and buildings that are stunningly beautiful and make up an all together wonderful cityscape. And then your eyes alight upon the Parliament. (More on that later...)

I smoked my joint and decided that I'd walk over the top of Salisbury Crags to get a better view of the city. As I sat there an attractive looking tourist, I could tell by the large camera and tourist information map that she had in her hand, walked into my field of vision. She was a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair and a face like a 20 year old Alice in Wonderland and I wondered if I should offer her a pull on my joint in an attempt to strengthen the political ties between Scotland and the United States. (Well, in these times when America is invading oil rich countries and shooting it's inhabitants, you never know when you might need an American ally.)

I decided not to offer her my joint as she didn't look the type who did bad things like smoke drugs with total strangers in a place far from home. Besides, she may have got the wrong impression as I was wearing a t-shirt that has Terrorist? written across it and I may have had to try to explain to her post 9/11 mind that it wasn't supposed to offend anyone, it was merely to point out that no-one knows what a terrorist looks like. With a headfull of cannabis this might have proven difficult.

As we were both walking over the Crags at the same time our paths crossed more than once and I wondered if I was seeing Edinburgh the way that she was seeing it as a tourist. I do know for a fact that there was one perfect view I could see that she couldn't without the use of a mirror, her arse. Damn, that arse made me more determined to walk up Arthurs Seat than anything else ever could have. At times Goatboy took over and I found my inner pervert making suggestions such as "never mind Arthurs Seat, look at Alice's seat" and other equally twisted things to think about a random stranger. (Hey, don't get all judgmental on me, you have those kind of thoughts as well. If you claim that you don't, you're lying to yourself.)

After about two hours of walking up the Crags, I'd stopped to roll a few joints on the way, I began to head back towards the Parliament. I must have made a fine sight to anyone watching me as I stumbled and slipped down the steep slopes swearing like a stoned sailor all the way.

I sat at the bottom of the hill and got my breath back, after fighting gravitys attempts to make me rag-doll down the side of Arthurs Seat for the amusement of any onlookers. After five minutes or so my legs stopped shaking long enough for me to stand up without looking like a drunken giraffe and I wandered across the road to the Parliament building.

I walked around the Parliament slowly. I looked at it from as many angles as I could. I stood in strange places and stared along walls and up at the sides of the building. I tried to put myself in the mind of the architect and found myself stuck.

I stared at the building and wondered how something that cost so much money could look so fucking awful. The windows make it look like the builders had been offered a great price on
bamboo, the concrete looks as though it was poured by amateur builders who were trained by monkeys, the shape of it all looks like Miralles had drawn it while hanging upside down with a leadless pencil and broken fingers after swallowing 5 tabs of acid and drinking a pint of tequila.

After at least a half an hour of staring at the building I couldn't take anymore and I wandered off wondering why it is that politicians allowed so much of the publics money to be spent on something that a child of four could have conjured up on an etch-a-sketch after eating 3 chocolate liqueurs at their grans at Christmas.

Afterwards I walked back up Hollyrood Road and headed for the High Street. I wandered down Cockburn Street resisting the temptation to pay a visit to Pie in the Sky, where everyone worth their salt in Edinburgh knows is where you can get a nice bong, screens for pipes or multicoloured skins for rolling huuuge Bob Marley style joints, and headed for Princes Street.

I walked along Princes Street and popped into Virgin where I bought three DVD's for £20. Snatch by Guy Ritchie, National Treasure starring Nicholas Cage and Restless Natives, an independent Scottish film made in the 1980's which was made in and around Wester Hailes where I spent my youth. (I even have memories of watching the filming of it.)

Tomorrow I'll no doubt pay for all the walking up and down hills I've done today but hey, what's a few muscle aches and pains when you've had a great day out? Nothing really.

*Update* Pictures of the Parliament building are available by clicking here.