When mad gods and Scotsmen stay out in the midday sun

Edinburgh, much as I love the place, is not a city of the light - this much I observered today whilst wandering around the city as the sun beat down upon it. It's a truth I'm far from the first to acknowledge. Search amongst the many quotes inscribed on the walls of the Scottish Parliament and you'll find these words taken from a poem by Hugh MacDiarmid (here's the full list of quotations):

But Edinburgh is a mad god's dream
Fitful and dark

It's an rather beautiful way of stating it. Even as it's inhabitants sun themselves to reach that peculiarly Scottish shade of lobster red the city itself sits uncomfortably in the background. Unable to shield itself from the strong summer light, Edinburgh can do no more that bide it's time. The wynds and closes in the old town in particular conjour romantic memories of pea soup fogs, and rain clattering off the the cobblestones. Look closely and you'll observe the peevish expression the city wears in the midsummer months . Listen carefully and you'll hear it's contented sigh as evening falls, or when the solstice passes and the days being to shorten once more.

Still it's people seem happy enough for the moment, making the best of this pleasant respite from the otherwise grim excuse for a summer with which we've been presented. It shan't be long until winter falls, after all, and the city once more belongs to the dark and fitful dreams of the mad gods.