EDINBURGH EXPERT WALKING TOURS - BLOG

Those making their way to St Andrews were faced with a considerable challenge in their efforts to cross the River Forth, necessitating a significant diversion inland to the west to cross at Kincardine, where the river was narrower, before venturing back eastwards to the coast, adding a distance of some forty miles to their already arduous route.

Towns along the northern bank of the Forth created a Pilgrim's Trail, featuring a number of holy sites and shrines to attract such travellers, and villages like Culross - famous today for its use as a setting for the Outlander TV series - capitalised on their saintly connections.

In the eleventh century, Queen Margaret of Scotland - wife of Malcolm III - established a ferry service across the River Forth, to provide pilgrims with a shortcut, and bypassing some of the inland diversion. A ferryman would row travellers across the choppy waters of the Firth of Forth, between two points which today still have names deriving from this transport facility - North and South Queensferry.

But with the growth of Scotland's population and the increase in demands for travel and transport, leading to the rise of mass transit in the 19th century and with the coming of the railways, the Firth of Forth remained a major obstacle for anyone seeking to travel north from Edinburgh or south from Fife. 

In 1882 construction began on a cantilevered bridge to span the Forth and carry a railway line which would link Fife directly to Edinburgh. The Forth Bridge was designed by Sir John Fowler and Sir Benjamin Baker, and would become one of Scotland's major landmarks, as well as earning a UNESCO World Heritage Site designation in 2015. 

Shortly after its construction was finished in 1889 the bridge was dubbed the 'Eighth Wonder of the World' due to its striking and iconic design of intersecting iron struts, creating a cross-hatching effect that - coupled with its distinctive red colour - made it a visual spectacle.

​This style was an accidental consequence of a tragedy which occurred in 1879, when the Tay Bridge - a railway bridge crossing the River Tay at the northern end of Fife - collapsed during a severe winter storm. Seeking to reassure the public of the safety of such large pieces of infrastructure, the Forth Bridge was deliberately over-engineered in order to provide a visual sense of security and strength, adding in the multiple struts and supports to provide more stability than was structurally necessary.

The Forth Bridge opened in 1890, and has since become a feature of Scottish culture as well as an icon of Scottish travel. When Alan Turing, the inventor of the precursor to the modern computer, compiled a series of conditions that would have to be met for a computer to be considered as 'intelligent' as a human being - known as the Turing Test - one of the tasks he described was: 'Write me a sonnet on the subject of the Forth Bridge'. Only if a machine were able to complete all of those tasks laid out by Turing, including the poetry assignment, could it accurately be described as being able to think. 

The painting of the bridge also came to be popularly used to describe a Sisyphean task - one that never ends - when it was believed that the job of painting the steel structure in its entirety took so long that by the time a team of workmen had painted from end of it to the other, it was already in need of repainting!

Today the Forth Bridge remains an iconic landmark, as well as providing an invaluable rail link between Fife and Edinburgh which serves thousands of commuters travelling into and out of the city on a daily basis.

Queen Margaret's ferry service continued running for eight centuries (although the boats had been upgraded several times over this period, eventually allowing for cars to be carried!). Even through the end of the 19th century, as trains rumbled across the Forth Bridge high above them, ferries continued shuttling passengers over the waters below. (For a brief time a hovercraft also carried passengers over the Forth a little further to the east.)

In the early 20th century, as car ownership and road travel boomed, a road bridge was planned as a means of providing another means of access across the Forth. Early discussions were held in the 1920s and 1930s, and construction eventually began in 1958.

When it opened in 1964, the Forth Road Bridge was the longest suspension bridge in the world, outside of the United States of America. At just over 2,500m in length, the dual-lane roadway with adjacent footpath is supported between two towers 156m high.

​This second bridge to Fife was opened by HRH the Queen in September 1964. As well as improving transport links, for the first time the original Forth Bridge could be viewed from the west, giving travellers an opportunity to appreciate its length and style as it stretched between the banks of the Forth.

At the same time, the original ferry service was discontinued, meaning pilgrims could no longer take a ferry across the Forth for the first time since the eleventh century.

At its peak, the Forth Road Bridge carried 65,000 vehicles across the Forth every day, but by the turn of the 21st century it was reaching its safe capacity, and concerns were raised over the future viability of the bridge as vehicle numbers continued to rise.

Plans for a new road bridge had been discussed in the 1990s, but it wasn't until 2004 that solid arrangements were put in place to commit to upgrading the infrastructure. A third bridge, now known as the Queensferry Crossing, began construction in 2011, and was formally opened by HRH the Queen on 4 September 2017, 53 years to the day since she had opened the Forth Road Bridge.

​Today the Queensferry Crossing carries domestic vehicle traffic over the Firth of Forth, while the Forth Road Bridge is limited to commercial vehicles. 

These three bridges offer three contrasting styles and functions, and belong to three separate, consecutive centuries - the Forth Bridge from the 19th century; the Forth Road Bridge from the 20th century; and now the Queensferry Crossing from the 21st century. It's a neat way of demonstrating the continued importance of transport links across the Firth of Forth over those centuries, and a visually arresting demonstration of the evolution of technology and design.

Visitors to Scotland today who take a trip out of Edinburgh will often have reason to pass over one of these three bridges. Anyone travelling to St Andrews for a game of golf, or further north to the Highlands, or even just over to pay a visit to Culross and other Outlander locations in Fife, will pass over the Forth and be able to appreciate the visual effect of three crossings over the same body of water.

They say the best trilogies come in threes, and with our bridge(s) to Fife we have one such trilogy to celebrate!

Exciting news today from the organisers of Edinburgh's annual festival events, which attract visitors from all around the globe each summer.

​Following the cancellation of the Edinburgh International Festival, Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo in 2020 due to Covid-19, organisers have confirmed that festival events will go ahead in this summer - and for the first time ever the Edinburgh festivals will be held in Glasgow!

The idea to take the festival out of its host city stemmed from recent ventures to take the Edinburgh Military Tattoo on tour: a travelling production of the iconic military spectacular - held annually in Edinburgh since the 1950s - has visited countries around the globe, including Australia and China, staged in a specially constructed arena against a recreation of the iconic backdrop of Edinburgh Castle.

​Proving that the event can exist without being formally tethered to the city has liberated Festivals Edinburgh to think more broadly about the future of the Edinburgh summer festivals season.

This way passers-by can still enjoy spectacular displays of juggling, fire eating and interminable 'magic' acts, but in a protected way that avoids them being exposed to the performers' breath, spittle or filthy fingers.

Instead of passing a hat for donations at the end of their set, street performers will be able to take donations via contactless card reader held against the glass of the shop window.

​Organisers made the decision to remove the festivals from Edinburgh after concerns were raised over the city's capacity to accommodate large numbers of visitors in a socially distanced manner. As Glasgow is by far the larger city, it was considered to be a logical decision to stage the festivals in a location where the covid safety restriction of 2m distance between visitors could be more comfortably accommodated.

​In a gesture of solidarity between the two cities - usually great rivals, especially when it comes to sporting fixtures - Glasgow will temporarily be renamed 'New Reekie' for the duration of August 2021.

Whilst much is often made of the people who were executed - justly or otherwise - in Edinburgh throughout history, there's relatively little attention given to those who bore the responsibility for dispatching those poor souls. 

In order to have an execution, an executioner had to be present to swing the axe, tighten the noose or light the tinder (depending on whether your fate was to be beheaded, hung or burned at the stake). They also carried out corporal punishments, such as public whippings. These people occupied a strange place in the society of their times - no one really wanted to do the job, but everyone agreed on the necessity of justice being meted out as laid down by the laws of the land.

So executioners often existed in a strange half-life among Edinburgh's citizens, by turns feared, respected, despised and admired. Here's my trip through the lives, deaths, and working arrangements of some of Edinburgh's executioners.

THE LOKMAN
In Scots, an executioner was sometimes called a 'lokman', or in popular slang was known as 'the doomster', the man who sent you to your doom....

​The origin of the word 'lokman; is slightly hazy, with some people making the connection between an executioner and a jailer, or one who controlled the locks - although these two roles were never knowingly linked in Scotland.

More likely is the use of 'lok' as a term to describe a quantity of a product - generally about a handful, but also a tuft (of wool or cloth - from which a 'lock' of hair gets its origin). The connection with the executioner is that part of the reward or payment which was given for performing this unpleasant work was taken from a tax levied on every portion of goods which were imported into the city for sale at the market, calculated as a lok or handful of each. Thus the commercial activity of Edinburgh helped to pay for maintaining the law and the administration of justice in the city.

This amounted to a significant quantity of cash - in 1590, the lokman employed to coordinate the execution at the front of Edinburgh Castle of a group of men and women convicted of witchcraft was paid £5 18s 6d, equivalent to over £1,250 in modern currency! 

ALEXANDER COCKBURN
Cockburn was a hangman during the reign of Charles II, and was on duty in the Grassmarket during the execution of around 100 Covenant martyrs, killed for adhering to a statement of religious faith which was at odds with the monarchy during the late seventeenth century.

In accordance with the various traditions of the time, Cockburn wasn't only a hangman, but was also known to have wielded an axe at beheadings of various higher status figures (for whom the faster death than a lingering demise by hanging was considered something of a judicial mercy) and of being involved in the torture of various suspected criminals in order to secure guilty confessions. 

He was known to have conducted himself in his role as executioner with a certain gusto, and cannot have been considered a reluctant administrator of the sentences imposed on criminals. But Cockburn was also notable for having his own life ended at the end of a rope, after he was found guilty of murdering a beggar in the city.

It was alleged that Cockburn had enticed the beggar, called John Adamson, into his home on Fishmarket Close, whereupon he had struck him with a number of violent blows in order to take from him the small amount of cash Adamson had collected that day. He denied causing Adamson's death - denied him even having been in his home - but blood-soaked clothes were found concealed in Cockburn's rooms, and he was arraigned and held in chains to secure a confession. When none was forthcoming, local magistrates pronounced Cockburn guilty of the murder, and sentenced him to be hanged.  

The situation thusly presented authorities with a conundrum - who was to execute the city's executioner?! And so a man named Mackenzie - the executioner in Stirling, who had previously served in Edinburgh - was sent for, and Cockburn might have been darkly amused had he ever known that the man who sent him to his death had been his own predecessor, whom he had replaced!

​Alexander Cockburn was hanged in Edinburgh on (or around) 16 January 1682.

HANG OR BE HANGED
It's fair to say that few people ever set out to become executioners, and the role could be a tricky one to fill anytime it fell vacant. Although the perks and benefits of the job could be substantial, the level of public profile and the gruesome nature of the job description itself made it a hard role to recruit.

One of the last executioners to take the job in Edinburgh was a man named Jock Heich, who was appointed in 1784. His path to employment was a curious one, as he had been arrested on charges of stealing poultry - although he was also a notorious wife beater, and it may have been that the authorities were induced to arrest him for some minor offence as a substitute for crimes they may not have been able to prove in an open court.

His sentence - for what amounted to petty theft - was to be hanged. But the authorities offered him an alternative, and offered him instead the role of hangman, which at that time was carried out by an elderly man who was unlikely to be remaining in post for long. Heich could avoid an unpleasant death for himself by taking on the job of executioner to others.

It's not known how long Heich deliberated over the decision - suffice it to say he served as the city's doomster until his death in 1817. 

MEN OF CONSCIENCE
If Alexander Cockburn had been a violent brute who took rather too much pleasure in the carrying out of his role, other executioners in Edinburgh took a more considered approach to the job.

John Dalgleish was the hangman during the early eighteenth century, and was the figure who saw the smuggler Andrew Wilson to his death ahead of the Porteous Riots in 1736. He was also responsible for administering corporal punishments, including the public whippings of less violent offenders. Asked on one occasion how he judged the force and weight of the blows he administered with the whip, Dalgleish replied, "I lay on the lash according to my conscience". This was perhaps his way of acknowledging a degree of latitude in the degree of trauma involved in the punishments he administered.

A little earlier, in 1700, a similar issue of conscience had led to a curious circumstance in the city. In the aftermath of the Darien Expedition to settle a Scottish colony in South America, there was a great sense of public outrage at the way in which the English government had acted in the affair, which had seen the expedition fail disastrously, with the needless deaths of thousands of would-be resettlers who had risked their lives and livelihoods in the spirit of colonisation.

Such was the strength of public opinion that a riot had been orchestrated in the city of Edinburgh, for which a number of organisers and agitators had been arrested and sentenced to a severe public whipping at the Mercat Cross.

Despite the riot having been a breach of city regulations, many sympathised with the position of the rioters, and agreed with their cause, and the hangman experienced a prick of conscience at punishing men with whose political feeling he strenuously agreed. And so it was that at their punishment, Dalgleish enacted the whipping with a degree of theatricality, and didn't let the whip make contact with the backs of the rioters, avoiding causing them pain or suffering.

The city authorities were outraged by what they saw as a partisan avoidance of judicial instruction, and had the executioner arrested and sentenced to a public whipping for his insubordination!

The council sent to Haddington to secure the services of a hangman to come and administer the punishment, but on arrival the replacement hangman found himself threatened and intimidated by the general public whose feeling had been shared by their conscientious objector.... Accordingly he refused the job and fled the city, forcing some to joke that Edinburgh council would have to secure the services of a third executioner to punish the second who had refused to punish the first...!

Instead, Edinburgh council admitted defeat at the hands of public opinion and dropped the issue.

SHAMED AND ASHAMED
One of the city's executioners had been a young man in a wealthy family from Melrose in the Scottish Borders. Having inherited a significant fortune, he squandered the cash and lost it through a profligate lifestyle, before being declared bankrupt. He left Melrose in shame, and set out to start a new life in Edinburgh, where nobody knew him or his story.

Having changed his name, he found the only job which was open was that of hangman, and with no other option available to him he gratefully accepted the role. 

Having begun to save up some cash, he had aspirations of returning to his former lifestyle, and bought some fine clothes in which he would walk out to Bruntsfield Links, one of the world's oldest golf courses. Here he would socialise with some of the city's elite, playing golf and enjoying something of the former lifestyle he had lost through his own extravagance.

THE LAST PUBLIC HANGING
Edinburgh's last public hanging took place on the High Street in 1864 - and it was precisely because of the events which transpired that day that no further public executions were to take place. 

Because so few executions were occurring at that time, the city had retired the post of executioner and no longer had a resident doomster to call upon for the purpose of administering justice. And so, to execute George Bryce, convicted of murder in June 1864, Edinburgh brought a hangman from York to perform the necessary deed.

It had long been considered that the role of executioner was not just to be trusted to violent thugs (like Alexander Cockburn) but that a degree of skill was required to perform the task in as brisk, efficient and painless way as possible. Sought-after executioners - like Albert Pierrepoint, Britain's last hangman - plied their trade with a methodical rigour that made the process smooth and efficient, and were rewarded highly for their diligent approach to the task at hand.

One primary calculation which was required from hangmen concerned the length of rope from which a prisoner would be hung - adjusting the length as needed to ensure the necessary fall and force of a drop, in order to efficiently break the neck and render death instantaneously, was considered the minimum degree of care to be taken over a prisoner's final moments.

In 1864, the executioner brought to Edinburgh from York - named Thomas Askern - seemed to possess none of these necessary skills and considerations. It may be that he had overstated his experience or qualifications to secure the job, or (according to rumour) he had over-exerted himself at one of Edinburgh's pubs the evening before, and arrived for the execution in a state of hangover. Regardless of the reason, what is known is that Askern took little care in assessing the length of rope needed to hang George Bryce, and when the trap door opened, the prisoner dropped barely two feet and was left to dangle in mid-air in front of the assembled crowd.

Instead of disappearing out of sight beneath the scaffold and dying with a swift break to his neck, as was expected, Bryce slowly suffocated in full view of the men, women and children who had gathered to witness the execution. Reports of the event differ on how long it took Bryce to die. The shortest estimate put it at 12 long minutes of slow, agonising suffocation. One witness recorded it took Bryce nearer forty minutes to finally expire.

Public response to the botched death was heated and angry, and a mob chased the officials and hangman from the scaffold with a barrage of stones. Thomas Askern became immediately so hated he had to be smuggled out of the city on a coach back to York first thing the next morning.

Appalled at the trauma meted out in place of a swift and efficient execution, Edinburgh held no more public executions - although hangings still took place in the privacy of the city's prison until the last execution in Edinburgh, within living memory for some, in June 1954...

Distract yourself from the horrors of the festive season with this fun quiz with 10 seasonal-themed questions to test your knowledge of Scotland's capital city!

Wishing you all the best for a safe, peaceful and relaxing Christmas, and I hope to see you for a tour of Edinburgh in 2021!

Edinburgh is full of historic properties and buildings that have seen their fair share of history. In terms of its heritage status, Edinburgh has more buildings listed for their historical value than any other city in the UK (apart from London).

​This occasional blog series highlights specific buildings and explores their historic associations - previously I've featured Moray House and Prestonfield House, and in this article I'll be looking at Acheson House, located just off Edinburgh's historic Royal Mile.
​
Acheson House was built in 1633, as evidenced by the date carved above what was the original main entrance to the building. Today internal renovations have divided up some of the interior space, and this doorway today gives emergency access into the Museum of Edinburgh, housed primarily in an adjacent building.

The building was originally constructed as a home for Archibald Acheson. In 1627 Acheson had been appointed Secretary of State for Scotland in the court of Charles I, and so was a major figure in the royal court as well as in his native Scotland. Acheson's second wife was Margaret Hamilton, and the couple's initials appear on the pediments over the windows on the upper floor.

Scotland and England had only been united under one monarch for barely thirty years at the time when Acheson House was built, and wouldn't be united politically for another seventy years - so it's curious to note the emblem of the thistle and the rose carved into the window pediments. These national emblems of both Scotland and England would suggest the building's owner boasted unionist sympathies.

​However, a fleur-de-lys emblem over a third window may suggest a sense of respect for the 'Auld Alliance', signed between Scotland and France in 1292, making a common enemy of England...

By the eighteenth century the building had fallen in status somewhat. Acheson had died in 1634, barely a year after the house was built, and later the property would come into use as one of the many brothels and houses of ill repute that would have been found all across the Old Town. Prostitution was one of the most common means of earning money for the poorest citizens, and Acheson House had become one venue for soliciting the services of such 'ladies of pleasure'.

Thanks to the emblem above its door, it was known locally as 'the cock and trumpet'....! It is thought that Acheson House may have been a favoured haunt of young Robert Louis Stevenson.

In 1775, an enterprising son of a church minister compiled and published An Impartial List of the Ladies of Pleasure in Edinburgh, detailing some of the women who could be found in the city's brothels, and the particular services (or character) they offered to their paying guests. James Tytler (who is alleged to be the otherwise pseudonymous author of the book) would later help compile the second edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, a decidedly more wholesome publication!

Acheson House was also at one time occupied by Edinburgh's Incorporation of Bakers, and the names of the adjacent lanes - Bakehouse Close and Sugarhouse Close - are a reminder that this area at one time was a relatively industrial part of the city.

As with many of Edinburgh's Old Town buildings in the nineteenth century, Acheson House fell into disrepair, and may have been demolished altogether if it hadn't been for the pioneering vision of the Marquess of Bute, one of the figures who led efforts to restore and preserve many of the city's historic buildings. 

In 1939 the building was acquired by the Canongate Kirk, who installed the minister of the church in the property as his official manse. Rev. Ronald Selby-Wright spent forty years ministering to the community in the Canongate area, and lived at Acheson House during the early years of his tenure.

In his autobiography, Another Home, Selby-Wright describes one evening hearing footsteps crossing the wooden floor of Acheson House, opening the heavy wooden door, and passing out across the courtyard and into Bakehouse Close. When he went to investigate, to see who had been leaving the property, he found the front door firmly bolted closed, and no evidence of anyone having been in the hallway. 

He experienced this same phenomenon several times during his occupation of the building, and a colleague who stayed in the property described a similar experience - footsteps, the door opening and closing, but then discovering the door firmly locked...

From 1951 to the early 1990s Acheson House was a craft centre, hosting a variety of Scottish craftsmen and women, before the building fell into disuse and lay empty for twenty years. Again it seemed as though the building might fall victim to neglect and disuse until a major renovation was funded in 2011.

Acheson House once again had occupants! Today the building remains the offices of Edinburgh World Heritage, the charitable body who work alongside UNESCO to help preserve and protect the city's historic structures. 

Still occupied after nearly 400 years, Acheson House has survived some of the most disruptive, damaging and difficult periods of Edinburgh's history, and today stands as a monument to the value of preserving the city's built heritage. 

As we crawl ever closer to Christmas, check out my virtual Edinburgh advent calendar - each day I will 'open' another doorway that can be found around the city, and share some of the secrets of the Old and New Towns!

You can view the interactive map - with links to the FB posts for each of the daily doors - below...

And of course you can join me on an actual tour of the city to explore some of these doorways in much more detail! 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

As the world's first UNESCO City of Literature, Edinburgh is renowned for its literary influences and connections. Chief among the figures frequently celebrated is Robert Louis Stevenson, who was born in the city on 13 November 1850. 

Stevenson is still widely read with works such as Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and one story that has a particular connection to Edinburgh itself, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. 

To mark 170 years of Stevenson's influence and legacy in Edinburgh, here are eight locations in the city associated with this literary giant.

17 Heriot Row
The Stevensons moved to this grand address in Edinburgh's New Town when Robert Louis Stevenson was six years old, and he spent the bulk of his childhood at this address.

As a child he was prone to illness, especially problems with his lungs and his breathing, and so was rarely allowed to go out into the damp Scottish climate to play with the other children of the neighbourhood.

Directly across the road from the house is Queen Street Gardens, a private garden space, where Stevenson would watch the other children playing, from the safety of the drawing room on the first floor of the house. 

In these gardens is a pond, with a small island in the centre of it. Literary historians have speculated that it was from watching the children playing around this pond and its island that Stevenson came up with the ideas of what became Treasure Island. 

Swanston Village
During the summers of the late 1870s, Stevenson spent much of his time in this picturesque village on the side of the Pentland Hills, to the south of Edinburgh.

His father had rented one of the properties, and Stevenson used the village as the inspiration for his unfinished novel St Ives, which he wrote in parallel with The Weir of Hermiston, which he did manage to complete.

Today the village of Swanston is still a rural retreat from the city of Edinburgh itself, with access to the hills, and remains popular with dog walkers and ramblers. 

Corstorphine Hill
Another local setting which Stevenson borrowed for his writing was one of the many hills which make up Edinburgh's landscape. Corstorphine is to the west of the city, towards Edinburgh airport, and features in Kidnapped, Stevenson's adventure story set in the aftermath of the 1745 Jacobite Uprising. 

The book ends with the two main characters form the story - David Balfour and Alan Breck Stewart - going their separate ways on Corstorphine Hill. Today a statue of the figures by the artist Alexander Stoddart can be found on Corstorphine Road, near the location where the scene from the book is set.

Princes Street Gardens
Stevenson spent the latter years of his life on an island in Samoa, in the Pacific Ocean. He integrated into the community there, who named him 'Tusitala', meaning 'Teller of tales', and on his death in 1894 he was buried in a spot overlooking the ocean, a reminder of his time as a traveller, journeying in the way many of his characters did in their respective stories.

So he has no formal grave in Edinburgh, his hometown. Instead, in Princes Street Gardens, surrounded by a glade of birch trees, is a simple commemorative headstone bearing his initials, RLS.

The Writers' Museum
One place where Stevenson is celebrated fully is in Edinburgh's Writers' Museum, a small building celebrating the life and work of three of Scotland's greatest literary figures - Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, along with Robert Louis Stevenson.

The museum can be found on Lady Stair's Close, off the Lawnmarket on the Royal Mile. It's a free entry museum and is worth exploring for anyone interested in the lives of the writers featured.

The Hispaniola
Stevenson was known for living the lifestyle of a nineteenth-century writer, which meant (broadly) significant amounts of drink, drugs, and a fondness for prostitutes... One of the bars in which he drank still survives, and is today an Italian restaurant in the Old Town.

The Hispaniola was a bar popular with writers, poets and figures associated with the University of Edinburgh, and Stevenson is known to have spent time here with figures like William Henley, a writer and poet who had a large red beard and only one leg, the other having been amputated after a childhood illness...

The Hispaniola bar helped give Stevenson the name for the ship in Treasure Island, and surely a one-legged bearded man must have inspired that story's notorious pirate, Long John Silver?

Colinton Village
Another suburb of the city where Stevenson spent time was Colinton, a small village near to Swanston where he spent time during his childhood. Stevenson's grandfather was minister of the church in Colinton, and the area provided young Robert with plenty of space to roam and explore and develop his interest in the natural world.

Today Colinton remains a peaceful residential suburb of Edinburgh, with the Water of Leith running through the area, and visitors can find a small statue of a boy playing with his dog, near to a heritage and nature trail. The boy in the statue is Robert Louis Stevenson, and his dog is Coolin, Stevenson's own childhood pet.

Chessel's Court
My final Edinburgh location which has a Stevenson connection is Chessel's Court in the Old Town, just off the Canongate section of the Royal Mile.

It was here in 1787 that a robbery took place, masterminded by Deacon William Brodie, the man whose life would help to inspire Stevenson's most enduring (and influential) character study - that of the duality of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde...