Midsummer on the summit of Arthur’s Seat is just like any other time of year: windy and busy. Come noon on Saturday, all the world is here, it seems, with the strongest representation from the US and Germany, according to my detailed inventory. (OK, eavesdropping.) Groups of young people in inappropriate footwear hold phones aloft, as if they’re at a gig and the main act is Edinburgh and her audacious views. Dogs lift noses to changeable skies and hind legs to rock hewn 342 million years ago by fire and ice. On top of Arthur’s Seat, which Robert Louis Stevenson deemed a hill in size but “a mountain in virtue of its bold design”, it feels equally as though the world is as it ever was, and that everything has changed.
