Edinburgh - a few years ago.

Edinburgh is strange, first in the pub it is almost full of Spanish people, in all ways it is them who put colour into this city. The beautiful and stylish people of town.

It is the night of the firework. The romantic occasion of all Romantics in this very much Romantic town. I walk around trying to find out the best place to be, noticing that everyone is out, even the September chill.

Spot an old lady walking with a camping chair. She is all on her own. Obviously used to the night of the firework. I quickly realise that she is the one with the hottest spot on the Meadows. The field where the southern and western part of the city watch the firework. She slumps down with here thermos of hot chocolate I imagine, although judging by the Scottish behaviour I have seen so far it could well be vodka.
She also has a blanket which is very wise. The firework start late, surprisingly and go on for a very long time, they seem badly in love with firework here in Edinburgh it feels like it is on every week or almost every day. This one is supposedly the one, well apart from New Years Eve, where they go mad snogging as well.

So one after one, or slowly with a build up a lot of crashes and sperm like firework. It is beautiful I was touched. Smiled deeply on the inside and hearing all these Scots or tourist or British or whatever go ooooo iiiii oooooooooooooooo.
Funny this collective orgasmatic sound. Then clapping and more applauding. On and on it went for about 40 minutes. Quite impressive, walking home you meet all these drunken people roaming the street and the clash between extreme sophistication and hooliganism hits you. It is a weird town indeed.

All this on the night Beckham became Roy Beckham for real.