So on Friday, Sophie came to see me (and Tim), which was extremely pleasurable and wonderful. Sophie has basic needs, like me, which leave her in a state of supreme happiness when satisfied. These are: 1) lots of sleep 2) lots of exercise 3) lots of food. This is in fact what we did when we went on elective together to Guatemala EVERY DAY (sometimes twice), which may explain why we were so blissfully blissfully happy during that time. So on Saturday we had a lie in and went out for a run and then ate an enormous amount of granola (we have recently purchased some Posh Granola, which, oh my frick) which basically left us so happy that I had to go into town and buy a camera.
So those of you privy to my innermost thoughts (read: suffer an almost constant bombardment of relation of my innermost thoughts. By me. Over the phone) know all about the agonies I've been suffering over exactly which camera to buy. Many offered useful advice, but by far the most useful was by Kirsty, who suggested I stop intellectually-wanking-over camera magazines and instead go to a shop and hold a camera in my hands and decide how I feel about it.
This was excellent advice but as I have an almost pathological fear of camera shops it was lucky that Sophie was there to morally support me on that fateful Saturday. Tim was unable, as he has an almost pathological tendency to become demented with boredom in the presence of cameras. We made a list of all the cameras I wanted to look at and their best online prices, and questions I wished to ask, and walked boldly into Jessops, where I promptly looked at all the cameras I'd put on my list and decided I didn't want any of them.
I wanted the Canon EOS 1100 d in the cupboard, and I made the nice man at the shop take it out for me. At that point, all my higher functions ceased. My ability to even read questions out from my carefully prepared card diminished. I was unable to work out how to switch the camera on. Luckily, Sophie was there, and she explained to the nice man in the shop that I needed a camera, a good camera, a camera capable of taking photos of fairly large, fairly stationary, birds that were quite close.
This last was to try and explain that I was not interested in a camera of such quality that it could take photos of diving peregrine falcons from the next county whilst seated on a tractor, but instead of the reassurance we were so desperately craving, it just provoked a very long tale from the nice camera shop man about a customer who was mad about red kites and the camera he sold to him to precisely allow him to photograph red kites in the kind of conditions I was describing.
After a long conversation, we determined that that was exactly the kind of camera I didn't want, but the nice man seemed totally incapable of explaining to me what was so great about the Canon EOS that I should want it, instead appearing to prefer to expand upon the many other cameras he had sold in his glorious past.
Anyway, I bought it.
I bought it online, bearing in mind Kirsty's sage advice about cameras always being cheaper online, which saved me a lot of cash but did mean I didn't have it for my trip to Edinburgh. Which was probably for the best, really, as I would probably not have paid much attention to Edinburgh if I'd had the camera.
Scotland was even better the second time round. Also, we ate haggis, and vegetarian haggis, and both were surprisingly delicious. Anyway, I have been converted to vegetarian haggis, which I'd always thought was an implausible bit of pudding, and we both want to try the Guardian's own recipe at some point. But not soon. I think we are both haggised out for the time being.
As well as haggis, we ate many delicious varieties of vegetarian food in Edinburgh, though were also disappointed by the lack of vegetarian food in many a highly rated restaurant. Many places did only have one vegetarian dish, but they were very exciting ones, involving polenta gnocci and artichoke and halloumi and squash and all sorts of things, rather than the ubiquitous goaty tart, so could be forgiven. But the number of places with only 5 types of meat dish was disappointingly high. Though I suppose we were in Scotland.
We visited the Castle and the Surgeons' Hall, but also spent a large amount of time walking around and having tea and looking in bookshops and at improbable pieces of Tartan. We also went on the Whisky Tasting experience, the most improbably touristy experience ever invented, which was good clean fun. And we drank Irn Bru. All in all, a delicious and very enjoyable holiday.
Today we climbed Arthur's Mound, which was very exciting and gave us some beautiful views. Apparently in the summer they do a light show around it, which involves people running up and down with lights. And as we were descending, Tim said, "look!" and there in front of us, hovering almost completely perfectly in one place, was a red kite.
Or so we think. I would put up a picture for your delectation, but of course I had failed to purchase the Red Kite Camera and the picture I took of the landscape with the red kite in it, with my shitty camera, is remarkable only for its almost exact similarity to the landscape photo with no red kite to be seen. Even with the eye of faith, it's really not there. If only I'd listened to the man in the shop.
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