Just before we left Scotland, I purchased an old Olympus OM-2N, keen to see if I would enjoy the simplicity of a film camera once again. As soon as I unpacked it, and held it, I knew it would be a joy to use. It felt solid, despite its small size, and loading in a roll of Kodak Ektar 100 and winding the film on brought back some wonderful memories. Click, click, click.

What better way to try it out than in my final days in Scotland. We’d sold the car, so I was back to taking the train in, and walking through the city to the Mayfield area, where I worked. Past the familiar sights, sounds and smells that have accompanied me every working day for the previous six years.

I had no time to get the film developed before I left. That small plastic canister has travelled with us to Canada and on to Australia, nestling in my luggage. I had no idea if the camera was still functional, or if the film would survive, until I finally found a shop in a local mall that could process and scan in an hour.

It was all worth it, if only for the sense of anticipation that digital photography denies.

Of all the cities I have visited, Edinburgh is the one that calls me back.

Fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.
Ten thousand miles, my own true love,
Ten thousand miles or more,
And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,
If I should not return.
Oh don’t you see that lonesome dove,
Sitting on an ivy tree,
She’s weeping for her own true love
Just as I shall weep for mine.
Oh come back my own true love
And stay a while with me
For if I had a friend all on this earth,
You’ve been a friend to me.
And fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.