Some passengers get on, pay their fare and sit down. Others treat the bus like they're viewing a flat to rent. This gentleman managed to turn a five-minute journey into a full-scale investigation into the climate of public transport. We've had one of those strange hot spells in Edinburgh where the entire city loses its mind. The folk who spend eleven months of the year complaining about the cold suddenly discover they're allergic to sunshine. Every second person is carrying a fan, every supermarket has sold out of ice lollies, and every bus driver has developed the complexion of a boiled lobster. Into this tropical paradise steps today's star attraction. The doors open and on he comes, dressed as if he was heading to a hill walk in the Cairngorms in February. Heavy jacket. Thick trousers. The sort of outfit that says, "I don't trust the weather, even in August." He looks at me and says, "Can you wait five seconds while I go upstairs and see how hot it...
Your city, your journey, our drive.