“I’m going for a bike ride,” I decided. “I need the fresh air.”
It was a dry, mild day and soon we wouldn’t have many of those.
“Do you fancy some company?”
Yes, yes, I do!
I hid my excitement. “Sounds good. Do you have a bike?”
“I’ll hire one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned, seeming enervated by the idea. “I’ve never ridden around Edinburgh. I bet you know places I don’t.”
“I do know the city like the back of my hand.”
He considered this and then nodded. “Okay, Sawyer. Show me your world.”
Two hours later, after Sebastian had showered and changed and we’d located the nearest e-bike hire, we found ourselves in Dean Village. To my surprise, Sebastian had never ventured to Dean Village.
“I’ve seen lots of photographs, but I’ve never wandered that way,” he explained.
First, I led him down the cobbled lane of Damside and to the bridge over the Water of Leith to Hawthornbank Lane so he could take some quintessential Dean Village photographs as inspiration for any future artwork.
There were a few tourists already there, taking photographs.
“It feels like we’re suddenly in a Harry Potter version of Amsterdam.” Sebastian marveled as we got off the bikes.
I chuckled. “That is the perfect description.”
It was fascinating to watch Sebastian snap into artist mode. He suddenly got very intense and serious as he moved upand down the lane, taking shots from different angles with his camera phone. As he wandered upward, I leaned over the wooden fence to watch the water calmly flow by. I wish someone could explain why the sound of water was so lulling and peaceful. Maybe it was something I could research for general psychology class. Or maybe my professor would think it was too new age science-y.Maybe she’ll think science-y isn’t a word. I snorted to myself as I scanned our surroundings. On the bridge was an old man who had stopped to watch the water flow beneath him.
He had to be in his late seventies, immaculately dressed in a three-piece brown suit. On his head was a brown tweed flat cap. I wondered where he was off to in his suit. Or if he was the kind of man who’d worn a suit every day of his life and couldn’t break the habit. My curiosity was even more piqued when he plucked the flower pinned to his breast pocket and dropped it into the water. He pressed a kiss to his fingertips and smoothed those fingers over the top of the bridge railing. With a tip of his cap to the water, he strode back the way he’d come and disappeared up Damside.
It was clearly a tradition. Or a goodbye maybe. Or a remembrance.
“Where did you go?” Sebastian’s voice rumbled in my ear.
I startled, whipping my head around to find him leaning against the railing at my side.
He grinned. “You were off in a dream somewhere.”
“I people-watch to the point of forgetting where I am.”
“I’ll need to keep that in mind.” He lifted his phone, pointed the camera side at my face.
“Don’t.” I groaned, turning away.
“Okay, I won’t.”
I turned back and heard the fake camera shutter noise of a photo being taken. “You lied!”
Sebastian chuckled as he lowered it. “It was worth it.”
Shaking my head at his nonsense, I gestured to the bikes. “Shall we move on?”
“Where to next, Mistress of Auld Reekie?”
