Wednesday afternoon was set aside for the Castle but the lengthy queues at the ticket office and the thought of squeezing into the various apartments with a legion of perspiring tourists put us off.

So we wandered a bit. First to the National Library where there is an excellent golf exhibition. It has been mounted to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the Open Championship. As well as glittering cups and old hickory spoons and photos of chaps in plus fours there is a lot of written material dealing with the social side of the sport. A 1792 bill from The Golfhouse, Leith Links lists 3/- spent on dinner and 12/- on claret. Golf was thirsty work then as it is now.

Greyfriars Kirk and graveyard is always worth a visit and my friends were suitably impressed by the story of the loyal wee dog and by our celebration of the fact that McGonagall, easily our worst poet, is buried there. I was impressed that I was able to correctly explain the National Covenant, first signed there in 1638.

Naturally we popped into Greyfriars Bobby for a refreshment. It has to be one of Edinburgh's most pleasant pubs, especially when the students are away on holiday. Another pub attracted my attention on our way to the Parliament. Rutherfords in Drummond street was a favourite haunt of Robert Louis Stevenson in the late 1860s and was not unknown to myself in the 1960s.

It's now called the Hispaniola in a nod to Treasure Island but has become part of the Italian restaurant round the corner. The outside thank God, looks much as it always has but judging by the photos here the inside has become a veneered hall with all the character of a railway waiting room. But I have not been inside and this transformation took place two years ago so maybe it has matured. Their website doesn't reassure me though.

I fear the happy howff it was has gone forever.

At the Parliament there was an exhibition of press photography. Suitably chastened by pictures of man's inhumanity to man but cheered up by some of his dafter activities we went off to The World's End for scoff. They serve lots of good pub grub. I chose and enjoyed their excellent cullen skink and then their delicious haggis washed down with a good beer. St Andrew's Ale is not a bad swallee. Either the saint or the golf course, whichever it is dedicated to, should be proud of it.

This cultural journey ended with an evening of country dancing in the courtyard of Linlithgow Palace. It's a splendid setting and would look wonderful filled with beautifully dressed and accomplished dancers strutting their stuff. We were a bit of a rag tag and bobtail crowd whose dancing was energetic and enthusiastic but could not be called accomplished.

There's only one more chance this summer so polish up your pas de bas and your skip change of step and go for a Scotch Hop.