Burning the candle at both ends

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Surprisingly, true to his word Ali did call me. "Have you been to the tattoo?"

"I've seen it on the TV, does that count?"
"I have spare tickets for tonight, can you come?"
"Wow, yes that would be amazing, thank you."

"Ok," he instructed, "come to the gates and mention my name. Dress warmly as it gets cold. They will issue you a ticket. The tattoo starts at nine, so get there for 8:15. Meet me at the Scotsman afterwards."
"OK, see you later and thank you!"

He was right, it was drizzling. I was sat up high with a commanding view of the Esplanade. There were flags dancing around the tops of the steel amphitheatre that had been constructed for the occasion. Scanning around the stadia of chairs, graduating up from the ground, there seemed to be so many in number. It was a full house and the esplanade was swept clean of dust and detritus, to an inch of its life. The chairs were very rigid, plastic uncomfortable shells like school chairs, so much so that people had brought their own cushions. But the show as fantastic, much better than on the TV. The massed pipes and drums made their entrance against the backdrop of a glowing, illuminated castle entrance and shadows and light danced at their feet. I sought him out amongst the sea of nameless faces in his group. There was a little dot on the ground and I recognised that was Ali. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I know he had said the he hated performing in it!

I always thought it was a bit staged on the TV. However different guests performed a story, narrated by a man with a booming voice, that echoed all around the castle ramparts. The canons fired and music interjected. I admired the skill of the Royal Norwegian Guard  who were incredible, how they worked together in unison. They spun their weapons in synchronisation.. The whole event could only be described as polished. The all-girl Lochiel Marching Team from New Zealand paraded in their little white skirts and hats. The Scottish country dancers all wore the same kilts in different tartan. What a production.

After the tattoo, Ali met me. There was a tidal wave of people dispersing from their seats and it took a good while to get out of the event, with the remnants of fragrant firework gunpowder polluting the air. Ali steered me passed people and we marched down the Royal MIle, to the pub which was not far. With an air of habit, Ali piled all his dress kit behind the bar in the cellar at the Scotsman's lounge. This was his home from home. I really wasn't too sure about this pub lark that he seemed to do in every moment of his spare time, and I did see a pattern and did think the drink was a big part of his life; too big.

"Here! This is for you!"

Ali handed me a little gift wrapped parcel.

"Thank you!" I replied, surprised. "This is totally unexpected!" I exclaimed, a bit embarrassed.

"It's a little something to remember the tattoo by." Ali stated.

I unravelled the parcel, and then the white tissue paper and inside was a Scottish kilt pin. 

"Oh that's so lovely!" I thanked him and promptly fastened it into my jacket. I gave him a kiss and hug of gratitude.

We had a great night, and the people surrounding him from the tattoo were good fun. He walked me back to the hotel. I thanked him, we shared such an amazing kiss. My lips tingled.

"Goodnight!" He smirked. I closed the door behind me and climbed the stairs to my room. It's that knowing smile that you give yourself when you feel your heart flip, flipping because it's been a special, warming and memorable experience. In my mind I chuckled over some of his words; the silly shenanigans that went on and the way he looked after me with the odd check in, his devoted eye lock and smile.

The following day I was due to finish work then drive home. I packed and left my things in my car. I checked out of the hotel and headed into the office. Ali rang me. "So you're going home after work?"
"Yes that's right."
"Spend some time with me before you drive home? Let's get dinner, miss the traffic."
"Ok, let's go the the Mitre, see you at five. Meet me at the office."

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