Tag Archives: Edinburgh

A trip to chilly Scotland, to the big bold brassy city. Here a poor simple innocent Antipodean might easily have his head turned by the promise of hot steamy offerings… So ripe, so redolent, so seductive.

Bittersweet.

We’ve loved the life in Edinburgh, there’s so much to see and do,
Take a tour around the Old Town, take in the spectacular view,
My wife knows I’m no romantic but as our Christmas here passes
I’m seeing less through frozen specs than rose-tinted glasses.

We’ve Tiki-toured to near and far, from Loch Ness to Stockbridge,
Based in a quaint olde cottage free of all mod cons- like a fridge;
Promenaded past the Balmoral, trekked up ‘n’ down the Royal Mile,
Even the theatrics of a Spooky Spirits Tour invoked the ghost of a smile.

Yet- and yet- there is one unsavory thing I have found,
In both the New and Old Towns, on high or lower ground,
A presence lurks in the shadows, pervasive, omnipresent,
A fact of life in bonny Edinburgh I find, frankly unpleasant.

They seem to to haunt every corner, their entreaties oh so sweet,
Boldly advertising their dark seductive pleasures, pictures of deceit,
The wafting scent, the open invitation of a treat to make your day complete;
Don’t succumb, all you get is highway robbery, and tossed out into the street.

…No no no NO NO, I must explain, I don’t mean the ladies of the night;
There’s little wrong with consensual transactions, when the price is right,
No NO, I’ve never sought the dubious charms of a bargain basement tryst,
Nor the comfort and release of a half-price half-interested flip of the wrist.

Understand, if propositioned, this gentleman will decline,
The story essayed above did happen- to a ‘friend’ of mine…

The travesty I’m talking of is insidious, a blight and a scourge,
See, there’s the door, walk in if you’ve the nerve or the urge,
But beware, the broken man speaking to you strode in like a hero-
There’s nothing to suck the joy from life than supping a Caffe Nero.

The ill-practiced baristas lassitude was just the first of my concerns-
Its true that at Nero’s you’le see someone faffing about as the milk burns-
No, I didn’t leave no tip, I offered no thanks, because scarce a sip I drank,
I rate Caffe Nero bottom of the barrel, a stone-cold zero in taste- and rank.

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