Finally: Happy Birthday, Norah! Viva la Revolution!
That is what makes this place so wonderful. It is a haven for the deep, reverberating silence that is hard to find in a city. Besides, I like places that feel as if they have been forgotten and are just stewing in their own memories.
The first foundation stone for the cathedral was laid in 1874 and five years later the first service was held in the nave. The Father Henry Willis organ was also built in 1879. That is one old organ (insert unseemly joke about Viagra here).
I always try to encourage tourists to make the effort to see St. Mary's, but as I begin to explain that they will have to walk about 20 minutes from our office, I can see them start to lose interest. They prefer the idea of a cluster of photo-ops to a single out-of-the-way stone matriarch. They are missing out. Gorgeous wooden doors, intricate tile floors, high vaulted ceilings, every whisper an echo...echo...echo...
People-watching moment of the day: Looking out my window onto Gorgie Road, where the punters were heading to the football game. A father and son sitting on a bench, eating chips with little forks. The father's left eye had a fading shiner and he was watching the other we're-so-tough men who were walking past. The boy was sitting squashed up against his dad, leaving the rest of the bench empty. He slowly and methodically reached into the bag with his little fork and pulled out a long chip, and began nibbling at it while enthusiastically relating some story to his distracted father. I wonder how often, as everyday worries vie for their attention, that fathers fail to notice that their sons see them as heroes. Here is a man bathed in light, and yet he cannot see.