David on the Meadows

David's eyes fluttered open to a welcome slither of light creeping underneath the bedroom curtain. You might be picturing the bottom of the curtain somewhere near the floor. But as of a month ago, it was instantly elevated to four feet in the air, never to return back down. Woody, one of David and Katie's dogs, has a habit of hanging from curtains in moments of excitement and after a visit from the fox cubs in the garden, this particular curtain had given up after months of consistent dangling and finally ripped clean in half.

David felt a sense of relief to see the lower part of the curtain finally drop to its demise. Having a weird 'half-curtain' seemed preferable to the full 'swiss-cheese-style' monstrosity that had been begging to be put out it's misery for about a year now. Woody's teeth had left so many tiny holes in the curtain that if you were to stand in the bedroom during the day, draw the curtains and turn the light off, it would look like a starry night outside. It's also worth noting that the curtain ripped along a seam. This particular curtain had to be extended because the ceilings in Edinburgh are higher than usual.

At some point before they moved in, an extra bit of matching curtain had been crudely stitched onto a normal length curtain. In the end, this weak spot allowed the curtain rail to survive, just. It also allowed Woody to enjoy much bigger teeth-clamped bedroom swings. Like an angry tarzan. If tarzan had a more high pitched scream, razor teeth and four previous owners.

To the dismay of Katie (David's wife), the curtain hadn't been replaced yet. Partly because David wasn't particularly practical around the house, but partly because subjecting a new curtain to Woody's swiss cheese treatment seemed cruel in a way. Not that curtains are conscious or have feelings. But to David, if he were to die and find out in the afterlife that the extensive selection of curtains that he'd willingly allowed to be tortured had felt every last chomp, he'd definitely feel bad, possibly for eternity. So being woken by some unavoidable sunlight seemed like a small price to pay. Besides, after such a long, cold, dark winter in Edinburgh, it was a real novelty to see the light.

Getting out of bed was always a challenge to David. So the light helped. It added a sense of urgency, like the day would start without him. This urgency helped on the mornings when he felt like his lead coat was on. Not an actual lead coat (although the feeling was very physical), a metaphorical lead coat which is how he visualised his depression. Sometimes the lead coat would weigh him down so much on the bed, he struggled to even sit up. On those days, the half-curtain light really helped him to muster the courage to roll over and plonk his bare feet on the wooden floor. Once they were plonked, the rest was easy.

With a grip and a limp swish, the zombie curtain flew back to reveal a beautiful orange/pink Edinburgh morning sky. Upon seeing this, David sped up. If this was the view from the back window, then the view from the front window onto Bruntsfield Links would be stunning. Having seen thousands of morning skies over the years, David had developed two unique abilities. One, to judge very accurately how pretty the sky would be based on a tiny glimpse through the tree-obscured back window and two, the ability to immediately know the temperature outside by opening the back window a tiny slither (which is the most the window will ever be opened after Woody had jumped out of it one day only to be discovered on the roof). So with the usual clank, David opened the window a few millimetres to discover a 9 degree C morning. David was always impressed with himself after guessing the temperature correctly and often wondered what this ability could be used for. Unfortunately, being a human thermometer didn't seem like a superhero movie worthy ability. But maybe, if he played his cards right, he'd be able to cultivate a solid reputation with the neighbours for recommending how thick of a jumper they should wear on any particular day. Imagine the queue down the street for such a service.

As usual, Katie disappeared off with Woody for his morning walk. David got dressed into appropriate attire for the 9 degree morning. Mainly waterproof clothing. Having been tricked countless times by Edinburgh's weather, waterproof everything had become the default strategy. The only thing that wasn't waterproof were David's bare legs. His golden rule of 'shorts above 7 degrees' was being enforced. And his proud motto of 'legs dry quicker than trousers' was still mentioned daily by David to anyone who would listen. He'd even considered that maybe he should have it on his gravestone. On a heavy lead coat day, it often seemed like this might be the most useful practical contribution to this world that he could offer. Especially to someone mourning him in a rainy graveyard. Although he'd also considered that someone might not want to whip off their trousers in such a place.

Katie returned and gave Woody's full attempted chomping report from his walk and a full and detailed poo lowdown. Only one attempted chomp today, in the direction of a woman wearing a slightly unusual hat. Unacceptable to Woody. Even at a distance of 25 metres. His usual screams filled the Edinburgh morning air. Muted only slightly by his basket (a more pleasant way to say muzzle that had been adopted by David and Katie not long after Woody was abandoned by his fourth owner at the age of one). One of his many nicknames became 'little basket boy' soon after. And for completeness, one good quality, shaky poo in the long grass today. In case you were wondering.

It was a somewhat misty Spring morning in Edinburgh and the Haar drifted ominously over the Links towards David as Reggie skulked along beside him. If you don't know what the Haar is, neither did David the first time he encountered it. For your information, it's an ominous looking sea fog that creeps through Edinburgh, and upon seeing it for the first time, David did consider for a second that it might be the end of the world. On that particular day, the Haar looked like a 'solid ghost wall' moving towards him at an alarming pace. Not knowing what to do, David did what any normal human would in such a situation. Filmed it on his phone. Turns out it wasn't the end of days, it was just a bit of fog. Still a good video though. On reflection, if it had been the apocalypse, he wouldn't have been able to upload it anyway.

If you're also wondering who Reggie is. That's David's best pal (don't tell Katie). Six years before this story began, Reggie was rescued by David and Katie after being relentlessly bred from. But that's a story for another time. For now, all you need to know, is that Reggie (Regina) is pretty much always with David. They bonded instantly and haven't really been apart since. Even on a romantic occasion, as David and Katie stare lovingly into each other's eyes across a restaurant table, you can look down a few inches to see Reggie's wet nose waiting for a chunk of that evening's cuisine at the end. Nicknames for Reggie include 'Big Orange Existence' and 'lumix'. She's 30kg of angel, sent to make sure David's dark days are always a little bit brighter. As for the skulking, it's an ongoing pet peev to David that Reggie's body language screams 'I don't get fed' despite almost always having fresh cream around her gob from that morning's pup cup. Don't worry, she's fine. She's just determined not to miss anything to eat on the floor which makes the skulk essential.

The grass on the links was lush and sodden today. David felt smug in his drenched waterproof shoes as the cherry blossoms gradually materialized out of the fog on his approach. Reggie firmly on the lead today in case she disappeared into the fog.

It was the end of May and the cherry blossoms were beginning to thin out. The ground was drenched in wet blossom and even the tiniest breeze (which was perpetually imminent in Edinburgh) made the precarious blossom rain down on David and Reggie like they were at some kind of damp, lackluster wedding.

Dotted in wet blossom, David wiped the lens of his phone and considered which frame might make for the best video to post on Instagram. I'm sure that many folks of a certain age reading this, might have just turned their nose up at such a thought. But it's important to know that posting videos on social media had become an important part of David's life. In fact, sharing his love of the Meadows allowed many folks to enjoy these beautiful scenes all around the world. And maybe, one day, they might end up buying a book about it. Who knows.

As he found the perfect angle to capture the remains of Arthur's Seat through the fog, Reggie promptly ruined the shot my squatting in the foreground - standard. Shot abandoned and poo bag snapped off in anticipation, David scooped with expertise. The morning fresh air turned to that thick mixture of mint and poo that made sure you were really awake. Mint, from the scented bags and poo from the poo. David often thought about how this was the moment that actually woke him in the morning. Before this, he didn't quite feel alive, like he was still in some kind of half asleep, half awake no man's land. Katie had often compared him to an old computer trying to connect to the internet - loud, confused and with the very real risk that it might not connect at all without some good luck.

David set up his tripod and prepared to start his daily livestream. Again, for the oldies reading this, that sentence might as well had read 'David bla bla rhubarb on the moon', but for the sake of time, David presses a button on his phone and broadcasts to an audience every morning. Believe it or not, all those videos had built him quite the audience in a short amount of time. So the usual routine of phone plugged into charger, tripod secure, Reggie out of shot on lead and David done within a minute and the livestream began (only 3 minutes late). Pretty good going for David.

As if by magic, folks from around the world began to say hi in the chat on the screen and David began to politely greet the familiar faces (and the new ones). Although on this particular morning, he hadn't noticed that the grass was being cut. Not until he saw a large green tractor pass by in the distance towing the big mower thing. He wasn't sure what to call it. But it gets dragged behind the tractor. You know what I mean.

Like the professional he likes to think he is, David ploughed on over the noise, discussing the weather that day and asked folks where they were watching from in the world. If you're wondering what actually happens on David's livestreams, the answer would be 'not a lot.' Something David takes great pride in. In his head, 10,000 people tuning in to watch him ramble on every morning about not much, seemed like a great compliment. Imagine how many would tune in if he actually prepared something!

As the tractor swung back and forth across the long soggy grass, it began to gradually get louder and larger in the phone camera view behind him. Eventually to the point of him not being able to hear anything over it's straining engine. At which point, he apologised to his viewers and came to the conclusion that moving to a quiet location would be better. Especially since he didn't want to get 'mowed' himself. That would be a tragic way to go. But at least he'd be mashed up into tiny pieces on the Meadows, his favourite place.

With tractor looming, he promptly packed his backpack and tripod and shouted to his viewers over the noise to 'bear with him' as he began to walk to a safe place. But unbeknownst to David, today's mowing was to involve more than just grass. David had often sighed to himself in frustration whilst walking across the meadows upon seeing hundreds of scorched rectangles. He's often wished (and moaned about) students wouldn't use their portable BBQ's in a way that scorched his beloved stomping ground. He's regularly thought to himself, 'why not just raise the BBQ's on a couple of bricks'. So simple, so easy and no grass torched. It's quite possible that someone along the way had actually listened to David, because on this particular day, there was a lone brick nestled around five metres behind David as he walked away from the tractor. As the tractor swung round, there was a deafening bang.

David jumped out of his skin, instantly turning to see what had happened. Milliseconds later, the now airborne brick, shot through the air and hit David clean in the forehead. The thud of David's limp waterproof body hitting the ground made Reggie jump out of her skulking skin and promptly lean in towards her best pal, sniffing his head in concern. David's phone landed on it's side and 10,000 people saw a trickle of blood run away from David's noggin. Now, because the internet is the internet, the inevitable bombardment of emojis flooded the chat. Carefully selected by David's viewers to best reflect the incident. Mostly skulls, some zombies, a few bricks and a couple of inevitable gravestones.

David had never driven a car. Ever. Much to the dismay of Katie. The idea that pretty much anyone as young as 17 could drive a tonne of metal at high speed mere feet away from random pedestrians had always seemed completely insane to him. He often thought about this as he sped through the Meadows on his bicycle. It wasn't a coincidence that David's interest in cycling had arrived at exactly the time that electric bikes became common. And he very much enjoyed putting in minimum effort for maximum speed (and satisfaction). But this year's party was almost over. It was late summer and the first leaves were already resting on the ground. It wouldn't be long before the green of the trees became yellow, orange and inevitably brown and the harmless leaves his thin tyres could easily handle, became brown wet mush they couldn't handle at all. Within a few weeks the bike would be retired for the winter. With that in mind, David was enjoying his last opportunity to slalom around the various bike paths on the meadows.

David didn't enjoy cycling on the roads for the reasons mentioned above. But there was one road he had to navigate briefly before reaching his front door. But as he turned the final corner onto said road, a loud thud sound jolted him out of his autopilot daydream. It was a dull thud. Like how you'd expect a potato landing on wet sand to sound. The thud was immediately followed by a strange scream of distress and as he approached it was clearly coming from a crow on the ground. A small crimson pool of blood expanded outwards from the poor crow as it struggled to breath, nevermind call for help (which is what it seemed like it was trying to do).

Shocked, David immediately dismounted and threw his bicycle on the grass bank nearby. With another car approaching behind, David held up his hand to make sure the crow wasn't finished off. The driver slowed to a stop and David crouched next to the crow, wishing it had been a potato. With the grass bank so close, he reached down and gently scooped the semi-limp creature with his hands. This was a strange looking bird, with a half bald head. The glossy blinking eyes of the dying bird seemed to stare into David's soul as he carefully walked the five paces to the grass bank. Feeling like he should provide the animal with an explanation as to why this would happen, all that came out was 'I'm so so sorry buddy. I'm so so sorry'. To which the Crow didn't seem to reply, understand or even register. Seconds later, after laying the bird under a nearby tree, it took its final laboured breath and life vanished from it's sleek, bloody body. David stood up in a bewildered, guilt ridden state of shock, hands dripping in crow blood. Silence.

The silence didn't last long. A loud cry from above his head bellowed out and David jumped out of his skin. Another distressed cry. And some more. It wasn't long before there was so much infuriated squawking from above him that he could barely think. A glance upwards revealed about twenty crows screaming at the top of their lungs.

Barely able to put his words together, David looked down at his crow-blood drenched hands. Then up at the crows. They somehow continued to get louder, seemingly demanding an explanation. It did undeniably look like David had just murdered this particular crow (no pun intended). But in an attempt to prove to them this wasn't the case, he shouted up to the bird covered branches in desperation 'It wasn't my fault!', knowing they'd never understand the words, but might somehow realise David's real intentions. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Just more deafening screeching. David followed up with 'I'm so sorry' and as respectfully as possible, slowly walked backwards away from the dead bird so the murder could assess the murder of their relative close up. Some of the birds immediately swooped down to investigate, some continued to scream at David as he almost fell backwards over his bike.

Unable to even consider enjoying riding his bike under the weight of such a solemn mood, David wheeled his bike the final few metres home. The last thought before he put his key in the door 'I'm pretty sure crows don't forget'.

BLOB looked up at his nest. The only way for BLOB to get there was along the wall outside the coffee shop, then a hop onto the seed covered bin. Then a small hop onto a fence post, then the big hop onto the now precariously dangling branch that led up to the sturdy branches and the safety of the nest. BLOB usually needed at least two attempts to make the last jump successfully and although he was slightly bolstered by frantic wing flapping, his lack of a tail and inability to fly, meant it was hit or miss at best.

BLOB had become somewhat of a celebrity in Edinburgh, partly because of David's videos and partly because he was just eyecatchingly cute. His little round body, round glossy eyes and long gangly legs were adorable to the point that people had noticed BLOB before David started making videos about him. The videos just solidified his identity to the locals. And everyone who lived in the area, were proud to say they knew of BLOB. The fame had led to a plentiful supply of food around the concrete wall at the base of his tree. Everyday, the kind people of Edinburgh swung by with nuts, seeds and the occasional pile of meal worms. This bird food buffet was more than appealing enough to tempt BLOB down from the safety of his nest to hop around his endless supply of tasty treats. Unfortunately, this was becoming an increasingly dangerous endeavor. The single branch BLOB used to get back up to safety was now dangling like a hand on a limp wrist. After repeated use, BLOB had caused the branch to bend. With every successful (or failed) attempt to return to the nest it weakened. Undoubtedly, BLOB's full belly didn't help. Not only was he a growing lad, but on any attempt to scale the tree, the meal worm in his tummy could easily at any moment become the straw that broke the camel's back.

BLOB was one of four magpies living in these three trees. The others came and went at will, swooping onto the nearby grass to scavenge for prizes. Now the weather was warmer, University students often sat in groups on their lunchbreak, leaving crusts, crisps and other delights for the more agile magpies to grab before their rivals, the crows. But BLOB would rarely venture as far as the grass for fear of getting stuck. Between the grass and the wall, was a path and the other magpies could simply glide over the constant stream of academics rushing by on foot or cycling past with all the urgency an academic could muster. Which didn't seem like that much. But still, if one of the bicycle wheels were to strike BLOB mid-hop, it would be the equivalent of firing a balled up t-shirt out of t-shirt canon, but way less fun. Or, if the worst were to happen, BLOB would become an even more suitable name. So in light of the risks, BLOB often munched away at his seeds as his more athletic brothers scoffed all the random delights found amongst the luscious green blades of the University lawn.

As the Sun began to set, painting yet another beautifully unique variation of the pink Edinburgh skyline, a stuffed BLOB abandoned his infinite seed piles and hopped along the wall, effortlessly bouncing onto the bin. The next jump was easy too, his landing on the post was solid as a rock. Then, with a couple of warm up bounces, the usual leap to the branch came next, wings flapping for the usual vertical boost. As his feet securely wrapped round the branch, the flapping eased to a gentle pace for balance and he walked up the straining wood. Then, as the sun disappeared behind the University and a dark shadow crept across the trees, the tranquility of the early evening was pierced by a loud snap. From high up next to the nests, BLOB's brothers let out a harsh rattle upon seeing branch, BLOB and belly full of meal worm tumble into the shadows.

Rain pelted the Meadows. David, still laying face down on the grass, didn't move, despite the aggressive downpour. If he was conscious, he would surely have been very proud of how his waterproof attire had held up in such conditions. The only sound other than the rain, was Reggie's high pitch whimpering, which rang out into the mist of the Haar and was immediately swallowed up by it. There was no one around to hear her cries. Hardly surprising given the almost total lack of visibility. Although he was motionless, David had landed on Reggie's lead, which at least meant she wouldn't run away. But, she was drenched and shivering.

Distress building, Reggie began to sniff at David's head, pushing her nose under his chin, which she often did to make sure she got her daily quota of head strokes. Maybe it was the tragic noise, the rhythmic touch of his best pal, or the fact that David's time away had run its due course, but suddenly without warning, his middle finger began to twitch, just slightly, but enough to wake up his hand, then his arm, then his chest creating a sudden, eruptive cough to jolting his whole body awake violently. With a deep gasp, he returned with a pained groan.

Sitting up slowly, he noticed a sodden Reggie. This was more distressing to David than the pain rattling through his brain, the large gash on his head, or the fact that he didn't recollect what had happened. So before he tried to answer numerous questions racing through his mind, he unzipped his waterproof backpack, pulled out as many extra layers of clothing as possible and began to wrap them haphazardly round Reggie.

With a wooly jumper, a thin fleece and random snood crudely tied around her shivering orange torso, he grabbed his backpack and dead phone from the soaked grass and scooped her up. Despite Reggie weighing 30 kilograms, David was in so much pain already, he didn't think twice about some arm and back ache that would inevitably set in within a few strides. Noticing the bloody brick wedged into the ground in the process.and began to stagger off in the direction he believed to be home.

Only a few painful strides later and David noticed something unusual about his surroundings. Maybe it was the impact to his brain, the excessive amount of water that had flowed over his eyes in the last hour or the thick fog of the Haar, but everything seemed to be drained of colour. Like someone had turned the saturation down on a TV. It was like being in a black and white film. A painful one.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about peering round the side of his heavy, shivering best bud's head with the rain hammering him in the face, David couldn't help but notice a black lump hovering in the air about ten feet in front of him. Unsure as to what on earth it was, but picking up on the ominous vibe of this strange mid-air lump, he stopped in his tracks. Squinting hard to see if he could figure out what it was or why a lump would be hovering in the first place.

After ten seconds of eyes locked firmly on the lump, without warning, it flew directly towards his face at high speed. In the three seconds it took for the lump to get to David, he realised it was a crow. Which made more sense than it being an anonymous hovering lump. But what didn't make sense was the crow had a very distinctive head - half of it was bald.

David had no choice but to evade the crow by leaning to one side. His centre of gravity immediately worked against his preferred outcome as he slipped on the wet grass and landed with a hard thump accompanied by a fitting, involuntary, guttural 'urgh' sound. The weight of a sodden and confused Reggie landed directly on top of him.

David's eyes struggled to open against the incessant impacts of the direct raindrops. He laid on his back, breathing hard, precious dog still gripped tightly against his chest. Then, from behind him, a small shadow crept over his face. The crow was back. Flapping its wings almost in slow motion, it hung over David, marble eyes fixed on him.

There was no denying it (as much as David was desperate to), that this was the same crow that he'd cradled just before it died. Its half bald head and distinctive shape was one of a kind. Had David been mistaken to think it was dead? He cast his mind back to the stream of blood that poured out of this animal, the strained breath that very clearly ended in front of his eyes and the unmistakable screams of grief from the murder of crows that had arrived to find him holding their dying friend. No, that crow was dead. There was no doubt about it. Yet here it was.

The next thought to cross David's mind as he laid on the sopping grass with a bloody forehead and a wet dog laying on top of him, was 'the last thing I need this morning is a ghost crow staring me down!'. And just as the thought finished articulating itself, a voice David didn't recognise as his own thoughts somehow entered his brain and said 'It wasn't your fault'. The voice was ominous and wise. And seemed to come from somewhere outside of himself, but was somehow in his mind. At first David couldn't help but look around. He wanted to believe that maybe there was a wise old man standing in the fog a few metres away that he couldn't see. Which would be yet another weird thing to happen, but way less weird than what his instincts were telling him. That it was the crow.

'It wasn't your fault', there it was again, repeated, undeniable and clear as day. Now, I don't know if anyone reading this has ever encountered a psychic crow, but like David, maybe you found it difficult to know what to say. Maybe it was a mixture of the cold, the shock and a brick to the head, but the first words out of David's trembling lips were 'Why are you bald?'. A strange question to ask but probably the least strange thing about the situation. Immediately after uttering these unproductive words, crow still hovering above him, David shook his head and had a second attempt before the crow had chance to answer. At this point he assumed it would. It wouldn't make anything weirder. 'I thought you were dead'. In the second after saying this, David braced himself. He needed answers, but was terrified the crow might talk again. Then, in the same deep voice, without moving, it communicated another message into David's consciousness, 'I am dead'.

In uncomfortable situations, David has a habit of struggling to find the right words. And with this situation being so uncomfortable both physically and mentally, David genuinely didn't know what to say next. It's a good job, that the crow continued 'I am dead…and so are you.' Now if David found it difficult to speak before, this left him well and truly gobsmacked, his jaw fell open in shock and the rain poured into it until he had to cough it out in a choking type splutter.

'Hahahahaha' the crow bellowed with laughter. 'Only joking. You're not dead'. If David had been teetering on the edge of disbelief at a telepathic dead crow, then this was the final straw to find out that he was a talking dead crow that liked to make bad jokes. 'So I'm not dead then? I don't want to be dead. I'm not dead right?' pleaded David. 'No you're not dead, I was just trying to lighten the mood.' said the crow. 'Right' David replied. He'd never met a socially awkward crow before, especially not a dead one, so decided it best not to point out the terror the joke had caused and to proceed with caution. The crow continued, 'But I am dead, you know that. You were there.' To clear up any confusion on the issue David jumped in 'that wasn't me by the way. I was trying to save you- ', 'I know, I know. It was a Mazda MX3 that caused my untimely demise.' David was both relieved and impressed by this sentence. He didn't want the dead psychic crow to attack him because of some kind of misplaced need for revenge, but also couldn't believe the indepth knowledge of family estate vehicles this ghostly corvid seemed to possess.

'I need to pass on a message. The future of the Meadows depends on it…