So, Scotland. It was the first time I’ve ever actually visited the country, despite the fact Edinburgh’s only a couple of hours away by train.

We saw Berwick-upon-Tweed from the train – it may be Scottish, it may be English, I’m not sure right now. Wikipedia informs me it’s currently English, and has been for some time but Scotland would like it back now. There was a rumour Berwick was still at war with Russia (Crimean war), and 1966 a Soviet official signed a formal peace declaration with them, but the official didn’t have that right, and Berwick wasn’t specifically mentioned in the declaration of war. Apocryphal. Anyway, it looked lovely in the sunshine.

Edinburgh was nice, but after all the fuss that’s been made about it as a beautiful and historic city I found myself disappointed. That’s the problem with living in York! It doesn’t help the city is submerged by roadworks at the moment. The youth hostel was near the centre of town, but on the new side (rather than the old city). The old city is beautiful, but has the most tourist tat in any one place I’ve ever seen, and did I mention I live in York? It’s just a street of tartan mugs and synthesised bagpipe music. But, it’s also where all the city tours kick off. We were going to take a ghost walk, but we got there just in time for a Underground City tour.

For a long period Edinburgh was confined to a very small space. It was penned in by its own defenses against the English for several centuries. As a result, it was the first city to have tower blocks, some as high as 13 floors, but they tended to collapse under their own weight. So instead they built down.  The remains of this underground city have long been lost, the last rumoured tunnel found beneath the Royal Mile some centuries ago. A drummer boy was sent into it, the royal family following above ground, listening to his beats to establish how far it went. They had just reached a crossroad when the drumming stopped. No one dared to go down and find out what had happened to the poor child.

The second underground city came about as a result of the end of the first. After the Jacobite rebellion was crushed Edinburgh could expand outwards again. Edinburgh was built on one hill, but surrounded by another six; inconvenient for a fashionable, up and coming city in those days. So, with that famous Scottish talent for engineering, Edinburgh made the problem go away (though I still decided against actually riding my bicycle on its slopes!). They built bridges. And bridges. And bridges. And then they buitl next to the bridges. The Southgate bridge, for example, has 19 arches, only one of which is visible today. The engineers raised the entire street level, giving buildings layers upon layers of basements and cellars. The vaults in the bridges were meant to provide yet more stoarge space, but there was a problem: they leaked. And not just rain – this was back in the days of “gardez l’eau”, or street sewers. Unsurprisingly, hte vaults were unpopular with businesses.

However, they did find favour with the swarms of immigrants entering the expanding city. Edinburgh couldn’t expand fast enough, so the vaults filled with families and travellers. There was no natural light whatsoever, and the people who lived there were unlikely to afford candles – if they did, they were tallow candles, smokey and smelly. They slept 10+ to a room, with a bucket in the corner for a toilet. And with the world above emptying their champer pots into the streets over their heads, there was no obvious place to empty theirs. The average life expectancy was 7 months after arrival, the only way back out was through organised crime. Burke and Hare, famous body-snatchers, were rumoured to seek victims amongst the Vaults’ inhabitants. The great fire of Edinburgh in 1824 didn’t kill the inhabitants directly – they were safe from the flames underground – but between 200 and 300 people were killed.

The date the Vaults were closed is unknown – there’s very little recorded about them in general – but our guide said the fire was probably the catalyst for emptying them and bricking them up. Immigration wasn’t quite so pressurised, and there was space for people above ground (and fewer people to move above ground, thanks to the fire). And having bricked them up, the Vaults were promptly forgotten about for over a century. They were redisocvered by a pub-owning rugby player in the 70s, knocking a hole through the wall in the gents loos.

There’s a lot of reported hauntings down there, figures in corners, voices, cold patches (you’re underground!), and lights going out. Many can be accounted for by the surrounding businesses, the dampness of the vaults and traffic on the bridge above. However, several people have encountered what our guide described as The Entity. It doesn’t like lights, and it claws at people. Many tourists have reported emerging into the light to find themsevles covered in deep scratches that they never felt happening. Some have even repoted being followed home by it; when they turn off their hotel light, they hear a ragged breath and feel the cold, and wake the next day with their skin scratched the shreds. The only way to put it off is to leave the lights on all night;  after a few days it returns home.

It didn’t follow us to the Youth Hostel. Well, not unless it’s added bruises to its ouvre, but I’m content to blame most of those on my bicycle. If you ever go to Edinburgh, you have to see the underground city. Just take heed of the warning on the sign – it really is psychologically disturbing!