I love Edinburgh so much.

Ten years living in Hobart may have knocked Auld Reekie off the top spot in my favourite cities list. But as the place where I went to uni, fell in love, had a baby, and made many lifelong friends, it will always be somewhere I want to revisit.

Last time we were back in Edinburgh, in 2018, I found the whole thing a little disconcerting. Perhaps not enough time had passed since living there, or perhaps my roots in Hobart weren’t quite so deep at that point, but whatever the cause I found it hard to straddle the line between local and tourist. It almost felt too familiar, strolling around the streets of Marchmont and popping into Margiotta’s for a Guardian and a lottery ticket.

This time round, I had no such issues. It was a pure joy to be back. I was definitely there as a tourist – just one with pals to see and no need of the Google Maps app.

We stayed near the Meadows on a beautiful, tree-lined street where squirrels sipped from birdbaths and schoolkids laughed under the window as they walked or scootered to school. DorkySon couldn’t believe how dingy the tenement stair was; I couldn’t believe how clean and well-lit it was compared to every shared stair of my student days! Not only did the main door lock work, it had a soft close mechanism so there was no door slam soundtrack throughout the night.

That’s not to say there was no discombobulation – but that had more to do with jetlag than location. On our first night, deep in dreamland and grateful to finally be fully horizontal, I woke up to DorkyDad fluffing up his pillows, searching for the light switch, and readying himself for coffee.

“Wow, he said. “That was one of the great sleeps of my life.”

“Mate,” I replied, peering at my phone screen. “Go back to sleep. It’s two in the bloody morning.”

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