Ask the gulls, the best things in life are free

Gloaming. As daylight fades we’re drinking in the best view in the city. For me tonight it could be of a brick wall and a bin – anything that’s not an eyescorching screen – but Middle Child’s eyrie, a signal tower rooftop, really does have the best vista in town. High over the waterfront, 360 degrees of city and seascape are laid out before us. A camera can’t capture this view. I’ve given up trying, accepted the lockdown lesson: some things have to be experienced, in real time, at first hand – they have to be lived. Not virtually, not online, not on a screen – Zoom fatigue anyone?

For once in the windy city there’s no breeze to whip up the waves and seagulls. Done swooping and wheeling, they rest at peace beside us on the chimney pots, enjoying the view and aroma of chips as the city’s friers fire up (dropped chips aplenty tonight, they tell their chicks).

Along the coast the Forth bridges’ lights blink across a painted ocean at the dark outline of Tantallon and the river below us is still until a fish breaks the surface to catch a fly.

“The best things in life are free,” I say to Middle, and laugh at the lazy cliche.

“You mean like friends?” he says and points out a pal meandering along the cobbles below as we peer over the parapet. “Must be coming here.”

“Just dropping by? Like me,” I say, cradling my mug of tea.

“Yeah, before lockdown everyone was busy, but now you can do that because you know people are in.”

We look up again towards the hulking cityscape guarded by the crouching lion of Arthur’s Seat as the lights go on: red fairy lights on the cranes, the uplit castle making an entrance for its evening performance.

“Wonder if there will be fireworks this summer?” says Middle.

“Probably not – no festival, no tourists.”

“But WE’RE all still here,” he says. “Yeah. Fireworks are fun. But even without them we’ve got all this.”

Festival city is quiet, but it can still put on a show. ■