EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND. 31 JULY, 17:08 BST.
Ahoy dear reader!
Spare a few minutes for a weary sailor. Grab an ale, take a pew - let’s have a chin-wag.
Apologies for my extended absence. My adventures in ‘web three’ occupied much of my time, and bringing myself to the helm of the Blockstream satellite terminal to publish these scribblings became one exercise too many. But now I’m back, hopefully for good. I hope you’ve been keeping well in the meantime - Lord knows much has transpired since the last issue of this letter!
For new readers: The Treasure Island Times is an invitation to to adventure from the frontiers of finance. It is for fortune seekers navigating the modern world, charting markets, travel, and luxury loot.
Welcome aboard, one and all. New issues will be published first through the Blockstream satellite, uploaded shortly thereafter on treasureisland.press, and eventually on Substack (under construction - eager crewmembers can subscribe early here: treasureislandtimes.substack.com).
Now, an update from the shores of the North Sea…
Abandon all hope, ye who live here: The Edinburgh Fringe (Cringe) Festival begins on Friday. What’s sold as ‘The World’s Largest Cultural Festival’ is really a hostile occupation of the Scottish capital by nations that have never forgiven this bleak country for colonizing them.
(This adds insult to injury to the fact that Edinburgh is already ‘Little England’ due to roving populations of posh English students - the notorious ‘yahs’.)
Population of the city swells to 200% as every annoying person who’s ever said ‘my family’s Scottish’ returns to their (alleged) ancestral roost. Great hordes of American boomers, Canadian libs, Ozzie goonsuckers and Kiwi sheepshaggers flood the streets in a desperate attempt to feel cultured.
The most mediocre student theatre production you can imagine thronging with anglo arthoes, phone perpetually unlocked from camera usage. Radioactive kebab shops, reverberating into the early hours with repeated declarations in North American accents that the deep-fried Mars bar is, in fact, ‘really good!’.
They think they’re helping. They think they’re throwing the porridged masses a penny. And in one regard, they are. For a brief moment, the parched coffers of this perpetually skint nation are slaked as foreign boomers shell out £300 for a ‘limited edition’ bottle of Famous Grouse and a breezeblock of Walkers shortbread.
But in the subconscious of the “My family’s Scottish!” tourist lurks a deep resentment.
Cursed with untannable, inflammable skin… with a genetic pre-disposition to alcoholism… and an ancestral ethnic identity that pales (literally) against that of the more marketably exotic continental… they rage against their bloodline. And for one month every year, they make a pilgrimage to Edinburgh to exact their revenge…
Flippancy aside, the Fringe sucks: Do not go, do not pass Go, do not collect £200. The streets are rammed, the price of everything goes up, and the content provided is delivered at a scale matched only by its blandness.
The Edinburgh property market is wound as tight as anywhere else in the Anglosphere, reaching absurd heights during the Fringe. Some tenants leave Edinburgh for the Fringe and sublet their flat to the tourists - the proceeds cover their rent for the entire year.
The only silver lining to this annual punishment is that the pubs stay open later than they normally would. But that’s not saying much, as the drinking holes here often close outrageously early, especially during the week (it’s common for pubs here to shut before 11PM if there isn’t much custom). Scotland is oft stereotyped as a nation of alcoholics - it’s left unsaid that much of this drinking takes place in the privacy of one’s home.
I sound like a morbid alcoholic myself at this point, so I should probably stop writing. There’s a rare glimmer of Scottish sunshine beaming outside, and you have to make the most of it while you can. Letters to the Editor, as always, to benbowinn@protonmail.ch.
More to come,
Jim Hawkins
The Treasure Island Times