Giants In Edinburgh (Giants in the Forest, Chapter 4: Edinburgh)

The last time I spoke of my quest for The Giants in the Forest, I was lost in the small patch of woodland on Falkland Estate. I am going to leave myself there for a while - it might ruin the drama of when I get attacked by the werewolf (I survived to see other Giants), but it doesn't preclude the possibility of there being another exotic encounter in Fife.

Instead, I jump forward to a journey that ought to have been easy. I nipped over to Edinburgh to check out The Giants at the end of the Royal Mile. I had a train ticket, and the three big boys are located at the end of the street where I work at The List. My contact was Sarah Cooke, and she works for the nation.

The first three days out had spread me across the country, and I'd been enjoying the travel. Being in the Central Belt - and being a super arts writer who gets to see all the big productions - had made me into a snob. Chatting to people in the under-rated Borders and enjoying the sunshine in Fife reminded me that Scotland is not just two cities and a strip of motorway. There is life and art all over the place, and that they work so hard to protect it in, say, Peebles, is a testament to a different vibrancy than the one I get stalking home from Sauciehall Street on a Saturday.

I've actually become quite sentimental about Scotland: in a week's time, when I arrive in Aberdeen, I shall say out loud, for no good reason, that I love this country. It did get me some funny looks. However, this isn't about identifying some defined cultural community the country is supposed to have. It isn't even about the beauty of the landscape between Dyce and Drum Castle.

It's the different voices. And it's the road. A moment on the way to Yellowcraig, a speeding train races past my bumping bus: I watch it go, and enjoy how the cars on the outside lanes try to keep up. Travel, in itself, is the vacation. I forget that when it's the morning bus over the M8, or when I go on a fancy holiday to The Foreign.

I am not regretting that this trip is merely an hour long, or to a location that I already know. It's worth it for the experience of the trains being completely snarled, meaning that the biggest problems I have in the whole trip happen in the capital. And Sarah chats about The Royal Mile, mixing up the importance of tourism and local people having a cheeky peek at the weaved threesome.