May 28th: The Adventure of Arther's Seat

A Story by Dust

Real life record of the events of May 28th

I prepared to go out for a walk in the dark. My attire; Jeans, warm boots, hooded Jumper, hat, scarf and a fluorescent vest in yellow �" to adhere to the highway code. In my pocket 2 of Apples, easy-peel Satsuma And I set out into the night.

No Doggos with me, Steve and Elsa tucked up in bed at Mother’s home for the night as a wee holiday. I strode past the rose garden impressive with a hundred blooms of different shades of pink, red, orange, yellow, violet �" I am Amazed! The fog of fragrance fresh in the evening air. The time, Eleven and Ten Minutes approx. As I walk I engage myself in munching an apple.

The Park was dark, no lights. I felt easy walking around in the streets, warm in my scarf and hat. The warm of the day worn out by this point. I take comfort in these items around my neck and face and the apple juices in my mouth and the stillness of the evening air, calming, my mind wandering. A Fox following in front as I pass the sleeping sub-urban homes.

At a waste skip, 20 minutes into the venture, I came across two collapsible aluminium framed lawn chairs the type my grandparents always had in the caravan. These two in good nick, but obviously well used, waiting patiently for a new owner. The previous not wishing to simply bin them but pass them as charity free of charge.

Not wishing to miss out on this fabulous opportunity and having tested out on the quiet bitumen Road �" very comfortable considering �" I decide to take them. Had I left the pair with the intent to return at the tail end of the quest they’d surely be gone, best to carry them outright.

‘Good Evening’ greeting to passersby. The dark streets. The light-weight chairs, folded of course, were a little awkward to carry but manageable. Another Blazing red Tod stalks the road ahead passing between the parked vehicles and off into dark gardens of shadow.

...

Away from the sulphuric glow of the street lamps, the Queen’s Drive highroad is dark. No movement disturbs my vision, not a sound in the loud silence pressing in my ears. I press on. My boots gently scrunching the gravel on the pavement.

I reach the East slope of this miniature mountain. A inclining path is visible in the dimness. No stars or moon tonight but enough light pollution to give contrast of dry path grass and lushes green shoots of the long wild grass. Bats, incredible in swooping blind flight, fly around and above my head in the darkness, their tiny bodies flutter. They are Awesome. I am Awestruck. ‘Good Evening Mr Bat, Keep up the good work.’

The steady Thump-thump, thump-thump of my feet keep me driving up the hill. The top in sight, distance perception poor by lack of light. Eyes adjust and breathing speeds, heart races and chairs clatter.

I catch a breath at the fence, the barrier to direct, protect tourists of the mountain from the sheer decent to certain injury, the worn path loose with gravel and schree, good footing is essential, good booting is key. The rock polished from centuries of footfall.

Upon reaching the top, the wind is picking up. The natural wind break of the rugged cliff top is behind me, the air rushes but not gusting too strong my deckchair wings flap and clang. A person moves the dark figure silhouetted by the sleeping city lights. A companion sits robed in a rug whispering ‘...what are they carrying...?’ They Call ‘Hey, What are You up too?’

My reply is honest, out for a walk. ‘Come join Us’ One calls. ‘Hang on, let me reach the top first’ I continue up to the peak marker a chair of each shoulder, the light of the city on every side, golden glow fascinating my vision. I smile.

I take a seat on a rock next to Sheani and Della. I sip the can of Tenants lager I kindly accepted. These two extremely drunk Girls, spontaneous in their decision to watch the sun set from the top of Edinburgh and delighted to find ‘Deckchair Guy’- as I came to be known �" partaking in the epic journey of pilgrimage to view the spectacle of Edinburgh at night. I take a novelty photo for my Cheshire friends and celebrate my achievement.

As the third wheel of an already vibrant party I take snap shots by request of my merry companions as they pose atop the concrete marker. The top of Arthur’s Seat. My comic caption for the best pic. ‘a thunder storm lightning strike double suicide’ followed up with peels of laughter and the couple giggle and swig Jagermister from the bottle. The cosy rug now the super-hero cape billowing in the wind behind Della and she recites a spontaneous rap.

They are grateful of my photography attempts and in the final shot, swing in for a selfie clearly an advert for the Jagermister, everybody beaming smiles from cheek to cheek.

I bid them ‘farewell and happy landings’ and set of down and homeward, my hands now numb with wind chill. I have my wings I could fly down. I refrain from listening to my silly mind and take the path. Halfway through the decent, on the northern path through the corrie the voices of young men rise on the wind. We meet ‘good evening gentlemen’ I state the fact. They retort the greeting, we chat, I joke their visit to the Scottish capital for the glorious weather. They jest as locals ‘..Can’t you tell?! Ha ha, Not!’ with a laugh. Why they ascend the mini mountain in the early hours of Monday morning? They lost a bet. These well dressed gents are drunk. I make them aware of the party happening at the top. ‘Beer?!’ one asks. Nope they’ve surely move on the hard stuff. See you at the top, they jest, alas not as I am the chair lift down. We say good bye and part. Their voices fade into the night.

As the path descends the shelter returns, my hands are glowing now thankfully, this path leads to the ruin of a chapel. I am surprised by the sudden appearance of an older bearded gentlemen standing in the bushes, not wishing to cause a disturbance the acknowledgement is a brief ‘Alright?’ I press on and he is lost to the darkness of the bushes again.

I pause for a relief on the chapel wall. Pose for a dark picture and move off quickly down to the Small reservoir of water on the North side. The surface is still with sleeping swans. I cut across the park when I walk my Dogs, I am soon home. Pose for a final Deckchair photo on the large recliner sofa in my flat. It is good to feel eccentric, I glow with achievement. This Arthur’s Seat Adventure a running success.

The End