I was out around Princes Street with my Ilford Sporti, a camera from the 1950s. The Sporti was at the cheap end of medium format back then (using 120 roll film). Its controls are basic and this particular camera had a bit of a light leak, which gave the resulting pictures an ethereal edge. It gives 12 square pictures from each roll – and in this case, was loaded with Tri-X, my favourite b&w film.
As I turned onto Waverley Bridge, it seemed to me that the many layers of Edinburgh were laid out in front of me. To my left, a hideous 1970s shopping mall which has never really flourished – Edinburgh Council isn’t famed for the wisdom of its planning decisions. A taxi rank, not over-busy on a chilly, out-of-season January day. Tour buses parked up in a line more in hope than expectation of a crowd of tourists.
Then, down a steep ramp, the Victorian grandeur of Waverley Station. Rising steeply above the valley floor are the towering tenements of the Old Town (high-rise architecture centuries before the term was invented). And above all of them, the spire of the High Kirk of St Giles on the Royal Mile.
There is a truly extraordinary shop in St Stephen Street. I call it the Shop where Nothing is for Sale, because when I was new to the area, I went in and asked how much several items were. The reply to all my questions was It’s not for sale. I’ve since discovered that my experience is by no means unique.
The range of stock defies description. There are old patchwork quilts hanging near the top of the window, strings of beads and brooches draped over jewellery boxes, tiny china animals, miniature vintage toys, battered Dinky vans, and sets of silvered hair brushes to name just a few. The interior is darkly Dickensian and the whole shop is lit by just a few unadorned and feeble lightbulbs.
The shop is owned by a mother and son. The mother, very aged, often sits outside the door on an old bentwood chair, watching the world pass by. The son spends most of his days in one of the local hostelries.
I took this picture on a winter night, when darkness descends before the shops are ready to close. It was a little misty and the light in the window seemed to shine more brightly than usual.