Under the A7 / Eskbank

Friday the 13th Part 2
 
It was nice sunny morning. No wind to speak of. Perfect for a bike ride ahead of the 1230 school pick up. With a backlog to blip at Eskbank I had plan to quick dart up there; snaffle a blip, then back to pick up kids and onwards into real life.
 
As I was swigging the last of my espresso, I wondered if today might be the day to get the one that’s on the entrance to the underpass. There’s a Cigs that’s quite unlike any other Cigs in terms of composition. Dating from 1738 if the legend is to be believed, I thought it would be an interesting one to post for the more compleatist Cigspotters amongst you.

Unfortunately it’s a little overgrown. It’s on the side of the entrance to a pedestrian underpass at the back of Dobbie’s Garden Centre* ** ***, but as it’s not linking anywhere to anywhere, the brambles have taken hold somewhat. Given it’s an interesting Cigs, I suddenly hit on the idea of taking the machete to hack back the undergrowth in order to fully expose it for you the viewers.
 
And off I go; hi ho hi ho with a rucksack on my back. (Is that not how the song goes? Maybe I’ve mashed a couple up together…)
 
At Gilmerton it starts to unravel. A police patrol car is gently heading into town as I am slogging up past Morrison’s, idly musing on whether I should try the boys with beetroot burgers for lunch or if the more usual (for them) beef burgers is a better idea. It suddenly screeches across the road as I’m turning off to hit the cycle path to Ferniehill and stops at the barriers, lights flashing, officers out of both sides shouting at me.
 
Me? Why are the shouting at me? It must be a case of mistaken identity. I’ve done nothing wrong. So on I plod, assuming they’ll realise their mistake soon enough and eventually track down their real quarry.
 
Onwards I go; off the roads and on the cycle paths and after cresting the hill at Gilmerton Dykes Road and enjoy the speedy descent to the cycle path to Straiton.
 
Again, just as I cross the old railway bridge I spot another police car, lights on, speeding about. Again I carry on; to check the underpass at Straiton; more in hope than expectation. And obviously there is nothing. Ach well.
I double back and head for Eskbank. A nice gentle descent to the Gilmerton Road and then back onto the main drag to Midlothian; downhill; tail wind, sunny.
 
Across the A7; and into Melville Castle grounds and on towards the newly discovered cache.
I chain the bike up and walk on in to take photos. The Friday 13th one is duly taken; a couple of long (ish) exposure ones too. A blurry outline of me in one looks like it might make a good back up one.
 
And off I go to try and set about the one I planned. It’s a short walk through the undergrowth. It’s always a relief to find unblipped ones still there, although I note Rope has been hard at work with a nice silver / black combo.
 
I scrape my way through the far side of the tunnel and figure I’ll do a before and after shot.
 
I dump the rucksack down; dig out the camera and machete and set about the before shots. That’s when it goes really nuts.
 
Through the tunnel and down the embankment off the A7 come 6 officers. 2 from above 4 through the tunnel. Shouting. Freeze. Don’t move.  
 
Geez, I think. These guys really are barking up the wrong tree.
 
I drop the camera, put the palms of my hands up to show I’m not offering any resistance.
 
They cuff me. I say OK, this is clearly wrong but I’m sure we can sort this out; I’ve done nothing wrong.
 
Then they go to the rucksack and lift out my machete...
 
The penny drops.
 
Ah, right, officer, there’s a perfectly innocent explanation.

As I’m saying the words I realise how ridiculous it sounds. But not as ridiculous as my explanation is going to sound.
 
I can see it’s going to be easier to let them do their thing rather than remonstrate in an underpass out of the public eye.
 
I’d never been to Howdenhall police station before. If it didn’t now have negative connotations I would be tempted to go back and blip it.
 
So long story / short.
 
I spent a long time going through blip, the Cigs map, Instagram. The interviewing officers were sympathetic but ultimately with knife crime being what it is, carrying a machete visible to the public which was liable to cause consternation was deemed to be at the very least a public order offence and potentially more serious. But before a sheriff could decide that, I was to be held until Monday morning….
 
There was a frantic period of phone calls to the boy’s mother so she could collect them from school. She was halfway through Fife on her way to Aberdeen to deliver some household goods for a friend who’s moving there.
 
The silent disbelief from the long suffering partner. Accustomed to my nonsense but this was obviously a new low.
 
But mostly the long quiet periods of nothing. I eventually got bailed on Friday evening; thankfully spared a weekend in the cells. Due to appear Monday morning – another embarrassing phone call to the boss to said I’d be late in on Monday; could I just take the day off as a precaution?


Conditional discharge. All good. I’m a machete down on the deal though.
 
White; black outline, Azure background to the piece; yellow detail. Dated 1738 but 2017 really.
 
*Other coffee shops are available
**Other pet shops are available
*** Other emporia of tat are available