Day 3 - Edinburgh to London

We woke just before 7am, which in holiday terms now counts as a lie-in. Anna took over morning Wiggles duty while Sophie attempted her lie in as she was working from home today. Not sure it worked though with what can only be described as a background soundtrack of fruit salad and toddler footsteps.

We said our goodbyes to Kyle and packed up our now somehow expanded backpacks. We left to meet Steven and his son Miles at the Botanic Gardens — except the Botanic Gardens didn’t open for another hour. Classic. Instead we improvised. A quick loop around the adjacent park, coffee, croissant, and brownies, and then on to a nearby play park. Miles was feeling a bit under the weather but gave the swings a brave attempt. Alexander, meanwhile, decided his role for the morning was playground surveillance officer. He followed two other children around with intense focus before making an executive decision to steal their ball. Subtlety is not yet his strength.

At 10am I had my weekly Zoom call, which I heroically conducted while walking back towards the Botanic Gardens once they finally opened. There were ducks. Possibly squirrels. I can’t say for certain because I was thinking about spreadsheets and nodding seriously at my phone. Steven headed off and we returned to Kyle and Sophie’s for the final pack and goodbye. We realised the bus would not, in fact, get us to the station on time — so Sophie kindly drove us to Edinburgh Waverley.

Of course, there was no lift in sight so we strapped Alexander into his “rollercoaster” (pram), lifted the whole thing down the stairs like amateur weightlifters and carried on. This would not be the last time today that stairs tested our manoeuvring skills. Despite this, everything ran surprisingly smoothly and we boarded the train with ten minutes to spare. Victory.

Then we reached our seats and someone was sitting in them. I hate when this happens. There’s always that split second where you question yourself. Did I misread? Am I wrong? No. I was not wrong. Three women were sharing the four-seat table. Two seats were ours. I put on my metaphorical big boy trousers and politely reclaimed our territory. Turns out they were lovely — an auntie and her two nieces on their way to ABBA Voyage in London. They had two bottles of prosecco ready for the journey. Sadly, the girl behind missed out on all the fun but quietly sipped away.

Alexander, once again, charmed the crowd. The auntie and nieces were thoroughly entertained. He was incredible on that train. This was the part of the trip I had dreaded most, but he absolutely delivered. He sat and read a book for nearly an hour. Then he slept for an hour and a half. When he woke, he had some food, played a few games, and only in the final hour did restlessness begin to creep in. We walked the length of the carriage multiple times. He inspected everything.

The last fifteen minutes were tricky. The iPad made a brief but decisive appearance. No regrets. Before we knew it, London. Alexander waved goodbye to the ABBA girls and wished them well.

We hadn’t brought any food with us so we grabbed a quick Greggs before diving into the Underground. Alexander, however, had mentally clocked out of trains for the day.

Navigating the Tube with a pram is an Olympic event. We hunted lifts like treasure. Down to Piccadilly, the lowest level imaginable. More corridors. More stairs. Finally, the right platform.

We reached Gloucester Road and our hotel was less than a minute away — The Other House. Very trendy. Possibly not prepared for a toddler to check in, but here we are. The room was perfect. Big enough for all of us. Space to put Alexander to bed while we stayed up. A kitchenette for milk operations and toddler catering. South Kensington location. Couldn’t complain.

After unpacking, we popped to Tesco for supplies. A man struck up a conversation with the whole shop about racism, London property ownership and etiquette. He informed us he owned ten houses in London. Fair play. He was upset because people hadn’t responded when he asked for directions, which he believed was because he was black. I could see the complexity in what he was saying — but delivering a twenty-minute lecture to the back of my head while I held a toddler and tried to find milk slightly diluted the impact. We exited Tesco Express swiftly and sought refuge in Waitrose instead. There we purchased our wine, milk and snacks without debate on the meaning of racism.

*Sorry, no picture here as I think taking a picture of him for the purpose of the blog would only have made things worse!*

Back at the hotel we reset. Alexander had spaghetti bolognese, we unpacked properly and got comfortable. Attempted to find cartoons on the TV — failed. Technology rarely cooperates when needed most.

Jan and her boyfriend Albi arrived at the hotel, which was lovely of them. We had drinks in the room while Alexander threw nuts across the floor and intermittently attempted to sample the wine. He was clearly past bedtime and not subtle about it. Eventually he decided the evening was over and strongly suggested we remove the guests. I changed him and put him down.

Anna, Albi and Jan went downstairs for another drink. Anna later ventured out for dinner and returned with some rice, dumplings and tofu. The tofu, however, felt suspiciously like runny uncooked egg. I cannot confirm this scientifically, but it did not make me want to eat more of it.

It had been a long day of trains, travel and supermarket encounters. But Alexander was outstanding. And so, finally, we slept before London properly begins tomorrow.