Arsenal, Arteta and Fried Haggis in Edinburgh

This week I have been mostly covering Arsenal at Hibernian, interviewing Mikel Arteta, eating fried haggis and visiting the Forth Bridge

It is Wednesday afternoon. I’m writing this in Edinburgh. 

St Andrew Square to be precise. An expanse of greenery in the heart of this wonderful city. Couples are lying next to each other, children are playing, and the ambience is one of relaxation under deep blue skies.

I’m laid on the grass underneath a tall column. My column under a column. Under azure skies. Or azzurri. But let’s not mention Italy this week.

The New Town

Earlier, I walked from my room near to Holyrood House, the Scottish Parliament back to Easter Road. On the edge of the George New Town. It’s a mark of Edinburgh that when they call it the new town, what they actually mean is that it is new compared to the old town.

Which is where I wondered idly on Tuesday lunchtime. Off the Square Mile and the city’s castle on a hill, the evocative cobbled streets and alleys, cemeteries and handsome old buildings with replete with their own history.

The old town is many hundreds of years old, whereas the New Town is only a couple of hundred years old. It’s all relative I suppose if you’ve been here forever.

Hibernian memories

Prior to the game on Tuesday evening I also walked from Holyrood and the New Town to Easter Road. This week has been the second time in my life I’ve been to a game at Hibernian.

The first was for a lads weekend when we also took in Hibs vs St Johnstone back in 2010. The home side won 3-0 and I called Saints midfielder Jodi Morris ‘a Chelsea c***when he came to take a corner near us. 

It wasn't big and it wasn’t clever. Please forgive me, but, as Pete Griffin from Family Guy might say, ‘I don’t care for Chelsea very much.’ 

But the double take Morris did when placed the ball in the corner was priceless. There wasn’t a particularly large crowd at Easter Road that day 11 years ago, and at that precise moment it was silent.

So for him to hear a booming London accent call him such a thing still makes me chuckle. Anyway, his club got the last laugh. They won the Champions League. Twice.

Back to this week. So, before the game on Tuesday along with my thoughts of the last time I visited the place (complete with the freeze frame shot in my head of the moment Morris was trying to work out why there was a Londoner at Hibernian vs St Johnstone calling him the c word), I turned off Easter Road into Albion Road.

It was then I noticed a programme shop. A proper old school programme shop. With proper old school programmes. But it was shut. I vowed to go back today. Which I did. It was wonderful.

It Happened in the North

Brian Johnston is the gentleman who runs Almondvale Programmes.

Can I just say Brian is a good man. But I should stop there and tell you that prior to making a pilgrimage to his shop packed full of every type of programme you could want, need or envisage (so much so that Football Focus featured him last year) I happened upon a clothing store on Easter Road called ‘It Happened In The North’. 

Terrace Culture

Football culture is so important to me. Genuine, authentic football culture. Which is why had the most wonderful morning along Easter Rd and Albion Rd with the legendary Almondvale Programmes as well as It Started In The North terrace labels store. I loved it. Absolutely loved it.

Head down and in a rush to get to the programme shop I positively stole down Easter Road. I would have missed the clothing and music shop if I hadn’t noticed an iconic t-shirt in their window of a top I’ve wanted for a long time, but never got round to actually buying it, as I’m not a fan of purchasing things on the internet.

Awaydays

The image that caught my eye was the iconic British Rail ‘Awaydays’ icon. It stopped me in my tracks, no pun intended. For anyone of a certain vintage, going to an away game in the 1980s on a British Rail train - invariably a dilapidated British Rail train - was a hairy experience. 

If it wasn’t the basic levels of comfort that reminded you that football supporters were second class citizens it was the fact that when you pulled into the northern town you were watching your team at, the British Transport police would calmly stride through telling people to lie on the floor if they didn’t want to get hit by broken glass from the bricks that were soon to be thrown by local herberts.

And if it wasn’t that, it was the guard’s cage with its big black sacks of ham rolls tightly packed in. This is what passed for food for football fans back in the 1980s. If you were lucky. To this day, I consider it a bonus if I get a bag of crisps on a train, let alone a sandwich.

Incidentally, you should have seen me on Japanese bullet trains during the 2002 World Cup. I was insensible with utter incomprehension that a train could be such a luxurious place.

Anyway, for me, and no doubt many others, the ‘Awaydays’ icon and t-shirt is a badge of honour for having experienced that decade watching football. 

I also had a good chat with the bloke who ran the store as we talked terrace fashions and music. It was rude not to when you encounter a store that sells North Curve gear, books on Paul Weller and posters of The Who.

Almondvale Programmes on Albion Road

So, buoyed by my chat, complete with my Awaydays t-shirt (and a rare Tacchini polo) I finally headed to Brian’s programme store in the shadows of Hibernian FC.

Can I add there was a queue to get into Brian’s shop. The gentlemen who were there turned out to be Arsenal supporters who had got into the game. I won’t name them here, suffice to say that they were wonderful company. I was also humbled to hear them say that they love what everyone associated with @GoonerFanzine is trying to achieve. (Thank you.)

I stayed with Brian Johstone for an hour. Talking programmes. Memorabilia. Great players. Great matches. Iconic teams. Hibernian. Arsenal. More programmes. More memorabilia. I could go on. I did actually. I loved every minute of it. He even stocks the Gooner.

I hope I didn’t bore Brian, but I suspect he enjoyed it too. I hope so, because programme shops like his aren’t just places to buy and sell things, they are a drop-in centre for like minded football fanatics to hang out.

To share stories, tales, gossip, heroic failures and miniature successes. A haven from the corporate banality of our post-Covid world. We exchanged details and I genuinely hope we keep in touch, because Brian’s shop is a must-visit for anyone who truly, madly, deeply loves football.

Lost pen after a missed pen

Emboldened by such a wonderful time immersed in football fandom I strolled all the way back to the Royal Mile. On a such a hot day (29C showed one sign) it was no mean feat with my laptop bag, and a superfluous North Face hoodie in tow. I stopped off at a cafe in the New Town where I had a delightful pit stop the day before to write and post a story.

‘You forgot your pen yesterday,’ the owner said to me, before asking: ‘Same as yesterday?’ in front of a room full of tourists eating, before bringing me an ice cold Irn Bru. (The same as yesterday.)

For a moment I felt like ‘Norm’ in Cheers. It made me like Edinburgh even more.

The X55 to Dunfermline

The Forth Bridge has always fascinated me. Having a familiarisation with the historic centre, not to mention climbing Arthur’s Seat the last time I was here (a matter of hours before my Jody Morris moment), I thought it would be a good time to head out and take a look.

The Forth Bridge

I’m glad I did. It was utterly majestic.

I got the X55 over the Forth Road Bridge and walked back. Which is a bit of a trek. But it was worth it. The splendour of such a feat of engineering leaves you mesmerised. So much so, that I almost got run over by a cyclist who, funnily enough, called me a ‘tourist c***’. Which I suppose I am. 

In a way I’m glad, because in celestial karma stakes I suppose Jody Morris has finally got his own back with the c-word being aimed at me in Edinburgh. Which I’m pleased about. It also meant I could take in the grandeur without feeling guilty about annoying other cyclists.

A long way down

That was because I made the mistake of looking over the railings.

You know those loud honking noises that are made when a boat docks? Well, my brain made that noise internally. As if to say, ‘my that’s a long way down.’ And it was.

To a wimp like me, the drop was utterly terrifying. But suppose I can’t have it both ways. I can’t constantly moan and ‘health and safety gone mad’ and then cry about a lack of solid protection when I could literally fall 100 metres and drown in a blink of an eye without a soul noticing.

But it did mean that I preferred to walk in the cyclists lane, situated slightly further away from the low railings. Which didn’t please the riders much. No wonder the Samaritans have signs on the bridge asking if you are ok.

St Andrew Square II

Enlivened by my trip to the Forth Bridge I hopped on a bus for the 45 minute trip back to the Royal Mile and St Andrew Square. Which is where I’m still writing this.

My Substack column

I have no idea where we are going with Substack.

All I know is that I picked a good time to start writing on this platform.

In my first week I’ve been to Cornwall. Celebrated my birthday in Aldeburgh in Suffolk. (And also got extremely drunk celebrating England beating Denmark). I’ve also shared my experience of attending the dangerous shambles that was the Euro 2020 final at Wembley.

A couple of tweets of mine even made it onto the BBC as part of an outstanding wider report on the chaotic event at our national stadium here.

And this week I covered Hibernian vs Arsenal at Easter Road. As well as interviewing Gunners boss Mikel Arteta pitchside, with what he said to me grabbing a few national headlines. 

It was also good to listen to him tell myself and three other journalists including the legendary David Ornstein underline that he supported Bukayo Saka after his ordeal sparked by his last-gasp penalty miss. 

(FYI: I’m also glad to say that David is not only an outstanding journalist and broadcaster he is also genuinely a really good bloke).

And on top of that I’ve been enjoying life in sunny Edinburgh to the full.

Which brings us back to St Andrew Square, Edinburgh

Which brings up back to St Andrew Square and an awaiting tram to the airport on Wednesday evening.

As much as I miss my wonderful girlfriend and our assortment of various children, I have to admit I am loathe to leave this wonderful place.

Fried haggis and fried black pudding

Before I go, did I mention I tried fried haggis and fried black pudding?

I’ve eaten all manner of strange foods in my time, garlic spiders in Cambodia, chocolate chicken with jalapenos in Mexico, fried insects in Thailand, kangaroo, camel and crocodile in Australia to name but a few.

But I have to say that fried haggis and fried black pudding were two of the most revolting things I’ve ever eaten. And that’s saying a lot coming from someone like me who absolutely loves food.

See my tweet here for a description of what they actually tasted like…

Mind you, I did ask the owner of the chip shop on Easter Road if they had any fried Mars Bars. ‘No, we’ve sold out,’ he explained, as he wrapped my fried haggis and fried black pudding, adding: "‘Fried Mars Bars are so bad for you...’

At least I can console myself that I always choose the healthy option here in Edinburgh…

……………………

PS: My numbers for the week so far:

Football matches: 3 (Hitchin Town 0-1 Stevenage at Top Field; England 1-1 Italy (lost 3-2 on pens aet) at Wembley; Hibernian 2-1 Arsenal at Easter Road

Irn Bru consumption: At least eight cans

Airplane journey: 2

Fried haggis: 1

Fried black pudding: 0.5 (I had to leave half as I could feel my arteries tighten…)

Number of times I spilled a mug of tea over my laptop: 1

…………………..

Forthcoming fixtures for the rest of the week: 3

Arlesey Town vs Hitchin Town, Thursday evening

Middlesex vs Kent Spitfires, T20 Blast, Friday evening

Rangers vs Arsenal, Ibrox, Glasgow, Saturday afternoon

Cheers

@laythy29