Flamboyance, fascinators and a tale of two cities

From a brush with Pride to tea and sandwiches at Holyrood, Fiona has been braving the capital crowds – and having a high old time

Each year I say this, but who wants to visit London in the summer? Airless trains. Pavements choca-bloc with people. An overflowing tube verging on the dangerous… Coming down that underground escalator you take your life in your hands. All you see is a queue of stationary heads at the bottom.

Fear rises. How on Earth do we get off without squashing into the crowd? Will we fall over like nine pins? Somehow, everyone manages to disperse and we are OK. I am no longer a brave, big city girl. Yet the English capital can still thrill – and this time a Pride Parade lifts spirits and adds a rainbow of colour.

We are literally swept along the street by the energy. A man with bright pink hair tells me he loves my burnt-orange jacket and matching strappy shoes. Then I get a bear hug from another chap in a curly blonde wig and red Marilyn Monroe dress.

Glitter and sequins add to the party feel but there is also a serious side to this annual LGBT event. It is one of promoting the message of dignity and equality.

Rather less flamboyant is the Holyrood garden party the chief and I attend earlier in the week. Less glitz, but still plenty of shine. Fewer wigs but loads of hats.

Yet it is the fascinator that is increasingly starring at this invite-only event. Once a type of lightweight knitted scarf, today’s offering is more likely to be some fancy fabric attached to a comb or headband.

It may be adorned with feathers, flowers and beads. It might be trimmed with netting. Interestingly, it does not squash your hair the way a hat does. Importantly, it is much easier to kiss someone under a fascinator than under a hat.

Her Majesty’s garden party is a way of saying thank-you to those who have served their communities for many years. It is an elegant affair and tickets are hot property – although the afternoon is not quite so.

In fact, I doubt the temperature gets above 10 degrees. Then the rain comes on. And there we are: in the shadow of Arthur’s Seat, sitting under umbrellas, drinking tea and eating cucumber sandwiches. It all sounds very English but it is the most stoic Scottish way to do things. The next day, of course, the sun shines. Which is nice for all those young folk heading to Holyrood for their Duke of Edinburgh awards.

Fear rises. How on Earth do we get off without squashing into the crowd? Will we fall over like nine pins?

Well done them. And well done to the MacNaughties for lasting a few lonely days without us. What an ordeal that must be. Staying at the stables (again). Long walks from morning till night. Nonstop pats and cuddles from staff and visiting riders. On the hour every hour a canine treat…

A whole menagerie to play with. It must be hell. It is comforting to return to two dogs that show not the slightest sign of stress and have to be dragged from their new best friends…