Bonnyrigg Library, Midlothian: “Scotland’s Bookshelf”

There is a constantly changing display of Scottish authors in the (very wee) Bonnyrigg Library, called “Scotland’s Bookshelf.”  Some of the authors are familiar to self, most of them are not.

These are the books self saw arrayed on the shelves when she dropped by the library today, the third Thursday of June 2012:

  • Alan Bissett, Death of a Ladies’ Man
  • John Burke, Hang Time
  • Val McDermid, Cleanskin
  • Alexander McCall Smith, The Importance of Being Seven
  • Maggie O’Farrell, The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox
  • Lin Anderson, Final Cut
  • Irvine Welsh, Reheated Cabbage:  Tales of Chemical Degeneration

Self scanned the first pages of all the books.  The language is almost universally salty.  How self has come to relish the emotionally expressive Scottish voice!

Today it was pouring rain.  Self wended her way to Edinburgh again, this time in the company of a fellow writer.  We took the Underground tour of Mary King’s Close (Five Stars!  So wonderfully atmospheric!  Scottish tour guides are the best!), then had a scrumptious lunch at the Scottish Cafe (inside the Scottish National Gallery).  We had haddock and green salad with beets and Scottish cheddar, then had a ridiculous dessert of raspberries and cream.  The dessert was served in a tall clear glass and A and self spooned out the cream onto flat plates — which was kinda awkward, but did not have any significant impact on the delectability of the item.

Then we looked at some Piranesi, some Hals, some Monet, some John Singer Sargent (The large painting of Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, circa 1892, was simply stunning)

Then we caught the # 31 bus back to Hawthornden, which was a great idea at first because there were plenty of seats on the upper deck.  But there was a very unhappy child who kept up a constant screaming all the way from Edinburgh to Bonnyrigg, and as it was pouring rain and there was tremendous traffic, everyone’s nerves were quite on edge.

But anyhoo, self is now in the Bonnyrigg Library, and this little place is also a nest, much like her room back in the Castle.

She decides to begin reading an Iain Banks short story, “The Wasp Factory.”  It begins:

“I had decided I would try to murder Esmeralda before she and her parents even arrived for their holiday.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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