I’m “hingin’ oot” the window of my fifth-story flat on St. Mary’s Street watching a lone pedestrian cross the snow-closed High Street where it turns into Canongate. Too bitter cold for the usual Hogmanay crowd to gather at the Old Tron Church and “tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.’’
Back then the city was old and I was young. These days I feel as old and weather-worn as the gravestones behind Canongate Kirk. But the Waverley Pub hasn’t changed a bit and the Tempting Tattie still serves the best stuffed potatoes on earth.