2019

It was a sunny morning in late September, uncharacteristically warm for that time of year in Edinburgh.

"Ice cream weather," Aidan told the group of tourists huddled around him.

The observation had been prompted by an ice-cream truck just behind him as they approached Edinburgh Castle. Visitors and locals alike crawled about in the mild sunshine and a small line had formed, eager for a frozen treat.

"This is where they hold the Military Tattoo, isn't it?" one of the tourists asked.

"Indeed, it is!" Aidan replied cheerfully and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "As you can see," he pointed with his umbrella to the stacked-up metal frames lining one end of the castle esplanade, "they're still taking down the seats."

Those of his flock who weren't taking selfies with the castle looming above the ice-cream truck turned to glance at the seats being dismantled. Most of his audience still had their scarves and jackets on, whereas Aidan had long discarded his jumper and stood now only in kilt and T-shirt.

A quick look at his wristwatch confirmed that the photo-op pause was over and he shepherded his group along. As they passed the ice-cream truck on the way to the castle entrance, a splinter of pain made his heart flutter and he halted to catch his breath.

He recovered fast, pretending to do a headcount, but the reminiscence which had just stabbed at him festered in the back of his mind and darkened his vision. Aidan rubbed with shivering fingers at his eyes under the glasses. It'd been too long since he'd taken to sea. He'd have to go for a swim between tours today if he wanted to stay sane.

A hundred years of memories took their toll on a halfling brain and his brain had become his most valued asset this century. Snippets of his childhood flooding to the surface usually meant one thing, and one thing only: the sea was calling to him, urging him to quit being an overworked landsman.

It was just as well. He was feeling too hot in this sun already.

Aidan ushered his flock onto the castle grounds and fought to think about Edinburgh's history, rather than his own. It was only too bad that the two were so closely intertwined. A couple more hours. If he could only pull through the next couple of hours.

Counting the minutes as he pictured the grassy coast and the heaving sea, he did. He struggled to pace himself and not rush through his juiciest stories. Gave his group just enough time to rest and take photos. Wrapped everything up right before the one o'clock gun went off and forced a smile on as he collected his tips.

An hour and a hurried train lunch later, he was standing naked on the beach at his family's ancestral home of Seacliff Lodge, slipped into his sealskin and dived into the waves.