QUEEN'S PARK RANGER

I made my way from the Queen's Park to the Regent Terrace Gardens. I clambered breathlessly up the steep footpath from the Honda Garage at Abbeyhill and sank gratefully onto a park bench. On a plaque was inscribed the following epitaph: 'In loving memory of John William Brian Chatterton of Doncaster, from his ever-loving wife and family.....' The message ended simply and almost apologetically: '....He loved Edinburgh.' It was easy from my vantage point to guess why this 'owd lad' of Yorkshire could fall in love with this city. The cold lunch-time sun shone brightly out of an eggshell-blue sky. Its autumn sharpness made the dwellings nestling at the foot of the Royal Mile, way down below my seat, appear hazy and brought the Palace of Holyroodhouse into gaunt and stark relief. To the east I could see Easter Road and sprawling Leith beyond, to the west the magnificent Old Town and to the south the majesty of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags. Behind me lay the elegant Georgian terrace lining Regents Road. My sense of well-being was not even disturbed when a man, wearing what appeared to be a tea-cosy on his head, cycled far too close to me and almost touched my trousers with his rat-trap pedals. The wind was keener now, blustering in from the west, and the cold was starting to penetrate my eyes and mouth. For most of the time I had been alone and it had felt good, but I had to press on, for time is money and I was short of both.