THE ELEPHANT HOUSE AND THE BAGPIPES

My legs hurt. I think it's to do with me walking 27km in the last two days. I'm not sure, but that could have something to do with it.

I got up a little later this morning and had a well-composed breakfast. The sky was clear and blue, the sun was low and bright, and the city looked ready for more exploration. After a final cup of green tea and a chocolate Penguin, I threw my rucksack over my shoulder and headed out into Edinburgh.

It was 6 degrees. Yesterday, even up on Arthur's Seat at sunrise it was warm enough not to wear a coat. Today? Freezing.

This is James Clerk Maxwell by the way. He worked out how to combine the four laws of electromagnetic radiation. He's one of my favourite scientists, and he's sitting here at the end of the road my hotel is on. He's looking down at me here as if my 2:1 in physics wouldn't be quite enough to cut the mustard. He's right. But also I don't have bird poo on my head.

So, today. I didn't feel like rushing around, so I spent the morning in some of the shops, and mooching around Princes Street Gardens. I don't know what it's like at other times of the year, but Autumn seemed like a magnificent choice to be there. The trees were lit up with colour - orange, flame-red, yellow and gold. It really is a stunning place. Edinburgh is essentially two towns connected together across a glacial valley. On one side, the old medieval city rises up along the Royal Mile between the Castle and Holyrood; on the other, the neat metric grid of elegant Georgian town houses stretches out toward the Firth. In between, where you'd fully expect a river, is this kaleidoscope of Autumnal colour.

My phone rang in my pocket. It was my friend Tim, who in a matter of minutes told me that he used to live in Scotland and loved it. I did not know that.

"There was this cafe," he said, "Oh you'd like it, Matt. It's called The Elephant House, I think. They do nice teas and they've got sofas and lots of books - go and find it if you can."

"Oh. I think I passed it yesterday," I said. "I'll go right there now while I'm talking to you."

Tim and I chatted while I confidently strode through the streets of a city I'd been in for less than 48-hours. Crispy leaves blustered around me in the sunshine and Tim told me about all kinds of things between the rectangular windows, the sandstone town-houses and Georgian fan-tailed frontages of posh Edinburgh.

Nature had taken over again. I had no idea where I was. Tim was talking about the EU when I realised that I was completely lost. In the end, I said I'd phone him back, sneaked some wi-fi from outside the nearest Starbucks and plotted a route to where my phone thought The Elephant House was.

Tim had to go before I got there, which was just as well because I think he'd have been just as disappointed as I was. Apparently... would you believe it... JK Rowling dreamed up Harry Potter in The Elephant House Cafe - what in the world are the odds? She did love a cafe, that lady.

Anyway, Tim had obviously lounged there long before they plastered that fact onto the window, and specifically before they'd done away with the sofas and books, and had turned it into a kind of bistro-shrine for students and Potterheads, most of whom were queuing out of the door with their selfie-sticks and wizard hats.

More mooching. I walked along the Royal Mile, where I was serenaded by bagpipers. I've started wondering whether they ever get bored of playing the same old tunes. There's Amazing Grace and then there's Loch Lomond (You Take the High Road). If they're feeling adventurous they go for the March of the Gay Gordons or Mull of Kintyre or something, but that really is it, it seems. I think I'd get fed up of standing there after a while and I'd throw in the Star Wars theme or something. And they're a peculiar instrument anyway, the bagpipes! Who picked up a sheep's bladder and thought it would be a good idea to squeeze one end and blow down the other?

Well it adds atmosphere to the Royal Mile anyway. 

After that, I climbed Calton Hill (I pulled myself up the steps using the railings while my legs wobbled beneath me) and took in the city from the Dugald Stewart monument and the old observatory. I was so glad I did that. There's a splendid view of Edinburgh from up there, and unlike Arthur's Seat, everything is lower and closer. It's great for that classic shot of the city you get in brochures. I stayed up there a while, trying to imagine what it's like on New Year's Eve. I'm not a fan of New Year's Eve, but if I could be anywhere to see it in, I think I'd like to be there.

I wish I had somewhere high to go at home. I had Roundhill Mount in Bath, a well-kept secret escape where the wind would hide my tears and drown out my voice. Here in Edinburgh, there seem to be lots of places to run to, to see everything so small and far away and insignificant. I have the park I suppose, but it's not quite the same. It's hard to let go of yourself when dogs are constantly sniffing the bottom of your jeans.

Speaking of home, I go back tomorrow. This has been brilliant; I feel like I've been here for a week. I hope it's been what I've needed, even for the battle that's ahead. The Four Giants are waiting. I don't want to think about that too much. For now, I can take this far-away, loose feeling and try to hold on to it for as long as possible. If I close my eyes in the thick of it, if I can bring myself back to the place where I'm overlooking the city in the bright sun of a glorious Autumn day, maybe the tension will melt away again and I will be able to chill out at the moment I need to the most.

I suppose I could always listen to the doleful sound of the highland bagpipes...