Less than 24 hours ago I was sitting in my sunny backyard before heading to the airport and on my way to Edinburgh. Now I find myself warming up out of the rain in the reference room of the National Scottish Library. My suitcase is waiting for me at the hotel for a 3PM check-in. I’ve wandered across Waverly Bridge, enjoyed Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon, and now I am here in this silent place.
I could be annoyed that it is cold and rainy and that I couldn’t check into my room, but I’m not. Would I be more content if it were sunny? I don’t think so. With a certain equanimity I’ve come to accept whatever presents itself during my solitary travel. I‘ve come to expect the unknown as part of the known.
I could be annoyed that it is cold and rainy and that I couldn’t check into my room, but I’m not. Would I be more content if it were sunny? I don’t think so. With a certain equanimity I’ve come to accept whatever presents itself during my solitary travel. I‘ve come to expect the unknown as part of the known.
From my hotel window: the Scot Monument, Princes Street, and the Royal Mile in the distance.
