Day 10: Farewell home-on-wheels, hello Edinburgh

Awake at 6am. It’s a miracle

Rain battered the campervan from all angles, and the slight incline turned it into a waterfall channelling over the roof like a local burn (pronounced barn — something I only discovered after confusing a local with my excitement over livestock-filled barns). I slid open the window shutter to a dramatic Scottish morning: moody grey skies hanging low over a golden sliver of sunrise. The fields outside shimmered in that almost-unbelievable shade of green — the kind that belongs on postcards or desktop screensavers, and somehow only exists in Scotland.

The joy of a real shower peep show

The amenities at Carr’s Hill Caravan Park were honestly top-tier. The shower block felt more like a home bathroom — modern, clean, complete with helpful signage and gentle encouragement to wipe things down with the mop and "wipeys." We did, however, forget to lock the door and treated an unfortunate older gentleman to a surprise mid-shampoo performance. We’d stay again… though he may not.

Packing in the rain is character building

Packing up in the rain was no small feat. But campers must go home, and the show must go on. RaRa and I met at work and make a solid team. It’s always us against the world. This time, the world was a stubborn motorhome with a list of exit chores: bins out, food finished (only minor wastage, thank you very much), duvet cover stripped to hide toddler-induced chocolate handprints and spilled Ribena, suitcases re-packed, and cassette toilet emptied. We debated whether to pay the penalty or brave refilling the gas bottle, planned our petrol stops, and wisely left a 30-minute buffer. We arrived with eight minutes to spare. Sav Nat Bum Steer strikes again.

We also came clean about a scuff mark RaRa left on day one, trying to adjust to Scotland’s famously narrow roads. The resulting paperwork chewed up time, and the damage to our wallet remains to be seen.

The hotel that wasn’t

Our trusted black cab driver picked us up and kept us entertained with stories about his kids, their autism diagnoses, and his deep love for busy roundabouts (yes, really). He dropped us at the Premier Inn in Haymarket, which turned out to be more of a circus than a hotel. Apparently, Lark is classed as a full-sized human and therefore can’t share a room with both parents. No exceptions. No manager in sight. An hour later, still no solution, so we took the refund and walked a few doors down to book somewhere else.

Exploring Edinburgh in wind & haggis

Bags dropped, Lark in the pram, we headed out to explore Edinburgh. First stop was Black Cow Coffee, followed by a wander up to Edinburgh Castle. We tried to duck into a pub for a pint, but kids under five aren’t allowed. Not exactly family-friendly. Eventually, we found a charming little panini place, and I had a haggis and sweet chilli panini with spicy tomato soup. With Lark fast asleep, we savoured a rare quiet moment, bellies full, and rain fading outside the window.

When it eased, we took a walk through Carlton Terrace, imagining the lives of diplomats and wondering if the residents are issued giant stone head statues when they move in. We peeked at soaring, floor-to-ceiling library windows and let our minds wander. We imagined the kinds of lives we could live, too – plenty more time left on this planet to reinvent and explore!

Bluey days are slow photo days

City overstimulation & countryside dreams

But the shift from the peace of the Highlands to the overstimulation of Edinburgh was jarring. Big, messy, gusty — wind whipped debris into our eyes as we crossed at the lights. I found myself wondering if maybe I’m ready for more countryside in my life. I love living in Sydney – she’s a pretty city, with glorious weather all year round and endless possibilities – but she’s also one of the most expensive cities in Australia. With no current rental, now’s the moment to decide what kind of life I want to build next.

Parenting on the road is its own adventure

And then there’s parenting on the road. This kind of holiday with a toddler is worlds apart from the ones I used to take. I loved curated tours, visiting off-the-beaten-track places, cooking classes, and highly physical adventures, such as overnight hikes. These days, our itinerary is mostly walking or driving. If we’re lucky, we sneak in some sightseeing while Lark naps in the pram. Activities are free and toddler-friendly — anywhere she can run around without causing too much chaos.

She had her first proper meltdown today. A full-throttle, snotty, tear-soaked tantrum because she couldn’t watch Bluey in bed with her bottle. All I could do was stand there, wide-eyed, thinking: Help. How do I handle full-blown actual tantrums!?

But then, there’s also this: Lark is in her little big ‘Rooooooar’ phase. She has the mane of a lion, and her big brown eyes sparkle when she throws her head back and roars like a little lion cub. It’s wild and sweet, and even in the hardest moments, I can’t help but laugh.

This may not be the most relaxing or adventurous holiday I’ve ever taken, but it’s by far the most alive I’ve felt on one in a long time.

Roooaar like a 19 month old lion cub