In this dumbed-down world characterised by fear, the uncompromising, constricted and inevitably mundane, there remains the welcome joy of the unexpected. So it was that, although Wednesday dawned enveloped in gloom, by mid-day, the sun had broken through the clouds, triumphant in its bid for hope. Gosh, that sounds almost poetic … After almost a year and a half of doom and gloom, Monday’s once anticipated ‘Freedom’ Day (in England), in the barefaced light of day, was nothing more than a mockery as Boris showed his hand – full of COVID passports! No wonder the mood was low. Lack of stimulation, the stifling of spontaneity, anything to look forward to?
We drove to Edinburgh in a palette of grey to find the light in Bruntsfield! The vista was stunning, looking over the Links – above the rooftops of my old stomping ground, George Square, the David Hume Tower (always was, always will be) and the University Library – to Salisbury Crags and Arthur’s Seat beyond. As the cloud melted away, the heat was almost visible. I stood for some time just soaking it all in – and remembering. I used to live in a beautiful flat on Glengyle Terrace, at the foot of the Links, in the early 80s. My brother and I were both in Edinburgh and my parents – not a financial bone in their bodies – bought 1, Glengyle Terrace, a 3-bedroomed flat, for £41,000! Yes, four one thousand! Seems completely unfathomable, now, when the exact same property is worth well in excess of £500,000 … How I wish we still had it, although with two cold siblings unfettered by sentimentality, I suspect it would have caused more trouble than it was worth. Anyway, as ever, hindsight is a great thing and, shortly after I left to go down to London, the flat was sold for £48,000! Did I mention that my parents were not financially minded, Pop a consultant psychiatrist and mummy, many things rolled into one but no idea about money? Yes, laughable coming from me but … Hang on, though, they also sold about an acre of land attached to our house – originally the grass tennis court, among other things, surrounded by beautiful mature trees – for £6,000 in 1982. Too much to look after, the grass needed mowing! Two hideous houses were, subsequently, built on the old tennis court. Six Rowan trees, among others, harmed in the making. Doesn’t that invoke a curse, to cut down a Rowan? Big mistake!
Back to Bruntsfield Links … I trod the familiar path down the hill to the tree-lined Glengyle Terrace basked in sunshine, people-watching as I went. Immaculately kept, nothing had changed as I stood outside number one, struggling to remember which floor had been ours and to see whether any of the recognisable wallpaper remained. Nobody seemed bothered as I took out my phone and snapped away, even the front door. Moving closer to read the old name plates with the bell pulls, I smiled as I saw ‘Steedman’, the name of the owner from whom my parents had bought the flat – actually, the ex-wife of my old headmistress’ husband! As though time had stood still …
I realised that this is where I would like to be if I return to Edinburgh. The wide-open space, the greenery, the paths, criss-crossing, lined with the blossoming cherry trees in May, the university, the Crags and Arthur’s seat majestic in the distance; no suits, in fact, the antithesis of corporate, a slower pace of life as though oblivious to time. My kind of place. My kind of time. Sauntering along the pavement, back towards the Meadows, I noticed a Strutt & Parker ‘For Sale’ board outside a basement/garden flat. Immaculate, there were tubs of flowers and a table and chairs on the little terrace below, white shutters on the windows. Quickly googling it, I saw that it is offers over £600,000. A snip! God knows why I am writing this when I should be head-down immersed in my future bestseller? Meantime, there’s always the hope of a sizeable miracle! Ah, but the Rowan trees …
Returning to the car, Becca and I stood and soaked in the view while I gave her the benefit of my stories! Meanwhile, stage right, appeared a young guy, hobbling on crutches with a massive boot on one of his ankles – well, foot, really. There was a large tree stump beside where we were standing and he asked if we would mind if he sat there. Polite, good-looking … of course! Actually, I had already seen him earlier as I had passed him on the pavement and moved aside when I noticed his gammy leg. He smiled and I glanced back thinking not only how nice he looked but how lovely it was to pass someone with a naturally friendly demeanour – a rarity these days. Now, here he was again and I felt as if I already knew him! Asking him what he had done to his foot, he said he had gone over on his ankle playing football. Turns out that was a huge understatement but we had no clue who he was which made our conversation – or, more specifically, mine – even more hilarious. Establishing he lived in Brechin and was through for the week staying with a friend, I asked him what he did? Played football. Oh, ok. Who for? Hearts. So, just for fun, then, not! Hearts? Who was he? John Souttar. How do you spell ‘Souttar’? Well, we had to look him up, obviously – later – when we discovered that he just happens to be the Vice- Captain of Hearts! How we all laughed as I told him he must be loaded while regaling him with my recent property search on Glengyle Terrace …
That chance meeting on Bruntsfield Links made our day. Hilarious to spend these fifteen minutes or so laughing and chatting to this young, good-looking guy with whom we, instantly, hit it off, with no clue who he was! Moreover, he seemed just as happy to find out about us – well, the fact that he was on crutches and could hardly sprint off … He made the mistake of asking what I did and that brought even more hilarity as he looked up Trish-Trash.com and I explained the sort of thing I write about. God knows how we got onto Naked Attraction! Learning he was a footballer, we discussed the Euros, how we had supported Italy in the final and how I had been rooting for Croatia rather than Scotland due to the unsporting booing. He laughed, claiming that was just all part of it. Turns out he has played for Scotland, too! Oh, well, pass me the shovel …
John Souttar. The loveliest of guys – and the most humble. Polite, friendly, funny, good-looking, successful, he has it all – and not an ounce of arrogance! How lucky were we to bump into him? Questioning our plans for the evening, Becca suggested he was asking us out! ‘Well, Trish, I thought it was heading that way!’. As I said, how we laughed … and how we needed that chance meeting to remind us that, even in this world of grey, there are still those moments of colour just waiting to shine through when one least expects.
‘In life, everything happens for a reason. People meet, not by chance but by fate. In meeting, however… who cares about reason? I’m just glad that we did!’
Unknown
This is Trish, signing off.
p.s. I followed him on Instagram – with his thousands of followers – and, guess what, he followed Trish-Trash right back! Pop, what do you think? Hearts has two new supporters …
