A Walk

Having arrived at Cockpen Road, Bonnyrig, via 30 minutes along a former railway roadbed from Hawthornden, I faced a familiar question: left or right. I chose right (to the post office), I forget why—perhaps because a half block left was the Quidsucker Motel, where I’d likely stop in for a pint and a page or two—a page and a pint or two—and never get to the post office.

Turning right took my clear to the south edge of the city. I turned back. After a while I turned up a path leading along a creek—don’t play near the water!—and straight (I was sure) to the post office. 15 minutes later, I found myself in an obviously new development called Rosebottom, where supposedly you can “breathe the harmony”. I turned left, heading up a hill from which I’d see (I was sure) the post office.

Not yet. “Which way to the post office,” I asked a man in a flat cap.

He gave a little smile. “I’m sorry to say you’re a long way from it,” he said. He set me on the correct route from which, within minutes, I took a wrong turn, and another within that one. I asked someone else, a young man fiddling with his ipod, where the post office was, this time gesturing vaguely off as if I already knew but just needed confirmation.

He gave a little smile. “Nowhere near here,” he said, offering a new set of directions.

I had it now. Soon I neared Cockpen Road, the post office just a mile or to the right. A car pulled to a stop in front of me, the driver leaning over to speak to me out the open window. “I’m looking for Wesley Street,” said the man.

I gave him a little smile, and a “Sorry, can’t help you.” By now I’d decided to stop for a pint at the Quidsucker and leave the post office for another day.

Here it is now, corner of Cockpen and Wesley.