Bobby the most important creature in Edinburgh

You people out there who are reading my blog need to make a comment or two to let me know that I am loved.

A few hundred years ago a policeman was on graveyard shift which meant that he had to watch the graveyards at night to make sure that nobody stole the bodies, which at the time was a lucrative business. He got lonely and so got a little Scottish terrier and named him Bobby. (This seems a rather unimaginative name, given that the guy was a policeman.) The policeman dies, the dog sits by the grave for the rest of his life waiting for his master's return. It goes on for 14 years when Bobby himself dies but he cannot take up his rightful place buried next to his master. He has to be buried just outside the church yard because he might not have been a Christian.

There are pubs and cafes named after him, there is a statue of him and even though I have only been in Edinburgh for two days, there have been big articles in the daily paper about him both days: that makes a 100% hit rate. Yesterday's article was about a little Scotts terrier who has been trained to leave a wreath on Bobby's grave and today's article was about the gall of the Walt Disney company who are going to cast another type of terrier in the role of Bobby in their upcoming film. I don't know that I want to go and see a film about a dog that sits still for 14 years, then dies, but you never know.

I told two very sweet teenage boys about my theory that Bobby was really just a bit stupid and they said I was breaking their Scottish hearts. I told them about the equally moronic dog on the tucker box and then they they appointed themselves my guides for the day. This meant a huge walk up Arthur's Seat where King Arthur is buried if you believe that. The stopped and put their arms around me and took photographs, they laughed easily and seemed to enjoy the irreverence of not honouring little Bobby.

Wierdly enough, the Melbourne string orchestra was in town giving a recital at the University of Edinburgh. It was just fantastic. The crowd were all music students or lecturers, or supporters. I think I was the only man on the street type to go. I later met one of the orchestra members on my hike up to Arthur's Seat with my two young pals and she told me all about how wonderful the trip through Europe has been except for the permanent hat hair she has developed. I too have been suffering from bad hat hair, but since all of northern Europe has the same condition no one really notices.