It was 1985, and my first time in the UK. I had done a grand tour, starting on the edge of The New Forest in Southwest England, driving to Bath, Stratford-on-Avon, then through York, over Hadrian’s Wall and on to Edinburgh. The Highlands and Inverness lay ahead of me, but first I spent a day exploring the Castle, and The Royal Mile.
Stopping along the latter, just a block or two south of the Castle, I went in to a small spot for some tea to warm the cold March day, and treated myself to a slice of chocolate cake.
As I sat there on the bench seat at my table, looking out the window ripe with condensation, I realized I was in fact looking at a photograph, right there in front of me.
Picking up my camera, I didn’t even have to move. I just had to expose a few frames of Kodachrome, and as they say over there, ”Bob’s your uncle!.” I had another visual souvenir.
My next time there, I stopped in and brought the owners a small print, which delighted them as they were about to sell the place and retire. And it is actually not there anymore, although I can’t remember exactly what is in its place.
