SUISS trek up Arthur’s Seat
I have now the pleasure of presenting my readers with an original document of a most singular nature, and preserved for their perusal in a still more singular manner. This brutish little scrap, printed on neon paper, laminated, and with a whistle attached, was discovered in atop Arthur’s Seat by happy dogs. I offer no remarks on it, and make as few additions to it, leaving everyone to judge for themselves. And so:
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified First-Aider:
Written by Himself.
Fideli certa merces.
My life has been a life of trouble and turmoil; of change and vicissitude; of anger and exultation; of health and of safety. My sorrows have all been for a slighted First Aid manual, and my vengeance has been wreaked on its adversaries. Therefore, in the might of Heaven, I will sit down and write: I will let the wicked of this world know what I have done in the faith of the promises, and justification by grace, that they may read and tremble, and bless their gods of horseplay and running with scissors, that the minister of the Triangular Bandage was removed from their sphere before their tears-before-bedtime were mingled with their sacrifices.
The morning of the hike presented us with weathers most disagreeable, indeed, it seemed that our proposed perambulation might suffer that most tragic of fates: cancellation! Yet, as the noon turned to us, we saw open upon her face the hints of a smile, which broadened presently into the sunniest of grins. We commenced our hike to the top of Arthur’s Seat at around four o’clock in the afternoon. And oh how that sweet sun did blaze! Thus, the only inclement precipitation oozed from within: a dreadful sweat clinging to even those hikers hailing from the most infernal of climes. And yet, reader: I hurried them. Since my swift and easy birth at precisely midday upon the due date, I have always prized timekeeping as the highest of virtues, for surely this is what separates man from beast, and at the midpoint we were a good three minutes behind schedule. And again, reader: I hurried them!
Here then, I reveal my life’s most diabolical shortcoming, that which desiccates my happiness and grinds it to a flour most loathsome. We sped up that rock, blasted by heat, and I discovered to my great dismay that I carried no water! No water, reader! What manner of First Aider neglects adequate hydration? A dreadful poor First Aider, to be precise! Me! Admittedly, most of the students had brought their own water, and nobody was particularly bothered as we were up and down the Seat in forty-eight minutes. Indeed, the students were perhaps most disturbed only by my, yes, slightly alarmist and overly animated reactions to discovering, at the peak, no full bottles within my knapsack. And yes, everyone involved got a great view of this fair City, got to know each other a little better, and generally had a really lovely time.
But the WATER! This torment shall weigh me down for the rest of my bedevilled existence!
View over Edinburgh from the summit
Here ends the wretched narrative. With regard to the work itself, I dare not venture a judgment, for I do not understand it. I believe no person, man or woman, will ever peruse it with the same attention that I have done, and yet I confess that I do not comprehend the writer’s drift. It’s probably some sort of a silly joke about a lovely SUISS day out…
Tom Farrington.