Tags
afternoon tea, Britain, desserts, Edinburgh, foodie, luxury travel, Scotland
Ever been accused of gifting to others what you secretly want yourself? I admit that I have been guilty of this on many occasions (apart from that time I bought Pumpkin a metallic blue, multi-purpose, mini screwdriver from the Danish design museum in Copenhagen a few months after we had met.) That was a gift he could rest assured had been given with only the recipient in mind; you only need to know me for two minutes to know that my DIY skills are comparable to an average toddler.
He treasures and makes use of that mini screwdriver as much now as he did then and I don’t think any item I have given him since has come close to replicating the touched and weirdly delighted look on his face that day (it’s a screwdriver not a holiday to Hawaii but whatever floats your boat, husband.)
What if I were to tell you, though, that before I had even booked the train tickets to Edinburgh for his birthday weekend away this year, before he’d even given me the go ahead for the trip, I had already booked the afternoon tea. The confessions are coming out now and it’s starting to feel like therapy (or court.)
This was to be our maiden visit to Edinburgh Fringe Festival and in my defence, ordinarily, I would have taken him out for a slap-up evening meal but with the risk of formal dinners clashing with performance times, afternoon tea seemed like a safer bet and always has a way of feeling like a celebration in itself no?
Still not convinced? My feeble arguments wouldn’t withstand the legal process but it is the outcome that matters and my motives aside, the outcome here was that Pumpkin loved it. Afternoon Tea at the Colonnades at the Signet Library in Edinburgh was anything but ordinary. And aside from cheeky bloggers trying to squeeze in extra scones in the name of spousal birthdays, there are a whole cohort of you, who I believe will be just as enamoured with the Signet Library Afternoon Tea as we were.
Had I forgotten the lethargy I suffered as a child in those temperatures in Saudi Arabia, where she would carry me up the two flights of stairs to our apartment, so floored was I by the heat? Had I forgotten the streaming nose bleeds I suffered when my capillaries dilated predictably, standing in the face of the scalding, summer sun. I suppose I had and when she reminded me, I realised that much of this trip would be spent indoors, just as much of my early childhood was during the summer months for similar reasons.
