Our Edinburgh adventures started with a trip to the good people of Mac. I would like to say that the good people of Mac are an ancient clan of piping, black-puddin eatin kilt-makers with red beards and a tendency to shout a lot. But no. It was an excursion to see a pimply faced teen who pressed a few keys and revived our dead Macintosh laptop. Bless ’im.

Next visit turned out to be a taxidermist’s wonderland: the exotic (but very quiet) menagerie of stuffed beasts at Edinburgh Museum. Oh and here’s something I learnt (which the rest of the world may already know) by peering into a box of dirt that had been artfully arranged to suggest a series of little tunnels; moles are TINY. About the size of a mouse, unless the taxidermist ran out of stuffing. I imagined them to be as big as a baby’s arm!

The Igoe-Cochranes middle child, Robert, came with us for our next adventure; a long hike through the back streets of Edinburgh to a swan-bobbing pond at the base of Arthur’ seat. Arthur’s seat is the site of an extinct volcano and rises 250 metres above sea-level. Our original plan was to climb to the top, but after dragging the stroller up 50 metres of a rocky and slodgy hillside, we folded up the stroller, chucked it into a thicket of gorse bush, and staggered to the wind-swept ruins of St.Anthony’ chapel for a rest. With our backs to the bluestone and big relieved grins, we pulled out our packed lunches and made fumbly attempts to unwrap the contents with pink numbed hands. Before us was a wide and generous view of Edinburgh and it’s surrounding seaside suburbs, including Leith where we are staying.

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