Even Lyn's not game for real haggis, and she's eaten deep-friend insects. But we tried "vegetarian haggis" (same spices, hold the offal) at the World's End, where Laphroaig is the Malt of the Month, and found it delicious.
I've been to Adam Smith's grave. He does not appear, at this time, to be spinning in it.
Scottish folk dances, as performed by two hundred drunk Australians on Christmas Eve, are nothing short of hilarious. The band leader, doubling as the dance caller, made no allowances for us at all. He'd run through the dance verbally, once, then start the music. The first dance involved getting into a circle, taking four steps, turning around, then taking four steps backwards, then four forwards, then turning again. Half the group got out of sync, or confused, or both, and collided with the other half.. continuously, for several minutes. By the last dance he was actually threatening to eat his fiddle. He wasn't putting it on; he was really annoyed. Still, it was a great ice (/bone) breaker, and much more entertaining than the generic nightclub dancing that happened later.
Edinburgh contains lots of buildings that are not the castle. It reminds me of my first walk along the Thames, asking Lyn "is that Tower Bridge? Is that Tower Bridge? Ohhh... that's Tower Bridge". One of the buildings on the skyline that's Not The Castle is a particularly creepy gothic monument. It's right next to the ferris wheel, which is quite strange.