Nearby, the thudding, rumbling and rattling of cars juddering over the cobbles reverberates with every passing vehicle. Away from the din, I'm trundling on foot downhill along narrower cobbled passageways that Edinburgh is so well known for. Either side of me are charmingly painted doorways, some with matching garages. Ivy cascades down old stone walls of cottagey-looking mews houses that were once stables and carriage houses, while pastel coloured roses climb up some of them too.
I'm walking away from the city centre, to the little dense pocket of Stockbridge, just one mile north from the centre, made up of only a few main streets. It's the much cooler, younger neighbourhood of the city, away from the main tourist trappings and crowds. It's still full of Edinburgh's grand buildings, but it's more relaxed and edgier – no tartan tat here. It's evolved from a suburb dominated by charity shops and mediocre cafes to one with fine dining, independent shops and more bakeries, delis and wine bars than you can shake a stick at.
