Choose a Rainbow

Walking up Arthur's Seat today, I spot the red bus. A double-decker, old style - with those fancy spiral stairs, dark wood and polished brass.

Now, what is this beauty doing parked on the one-way road around the hills? As I amble up towards it, the reason becomes evident - a fuzzy-white meringue tottering down the hill. On satin shoes.

A bride. Flanked, not surprisingly, by a stick figure in a tuxedo. The happy couple appear to be taking a stroll up Arthur's Seat, while the bus lingers at the curb, filled with relatives and guests.

Eventually, the newlyweds run out of reasons to gambol in the grass and rejoin the wedding party. With a fashionable purr the red bus rolls down the hill carrying all the fine people to their champagne and sausage rolls. Carrying the new husband and wife to a lifetime - or a few years - in each other's company.

When I finally reach and re-trace their romantic promenade it seems hard to believe that they were here at all - except for a white rose bud in the grass.

The British - I think in wonder - and their red public accessories. Red buses, post boxes, telephone boxes, Royal Mail trucks... when I was 21, I spotted one of these parked on a side street in Northern Romania. I vaguely knew the driver (I've been with him for 25 years now), and here was the dilemma: he was unknown, yet unforgettable: should I walk on? Should I stop and say hello?

As I walk up Arthur's Seat today - with a white rose inside a glove - I realise that was the moment when I chose my rainbow.

Edinburgh, 22 May 2016