The last time I was inside that building (or more precisely, someplace beneath it) was 50 years ago as I was being processed in the incredibly medieval-looking gaol/jail way down in the bowels of the old Parliament House (now the Supreme Court complex.)

I had started the morning in Moscow at the end of a 2-week tour of Soviet Central Asia, then flown to Gatwick where I'd left my car, then drove all the way back to my flat in Stockbridge. A knock on the door as I was decompressing (around 11 PM) and two of Edinburgh's finest invited me to accompany them on their enquiries, as it were. I asked what the charge was and was informed that I was being arrested for nonpayment of numerous parking tickets. I am not making this up.

It's true that I was a parking scofflaw - I had willfully ignored the numerous tickets I'd gotten while I was doing my postgrad work at Edin. U., but I had no idea they could morph into arrestable offenses. Silly me.

I rode in the back of the Black Moriah through the empty streets of the city, then found myself standing in front of a booking cop. The cells were in some dungeon/basement below the Parliament building - arched ceilings and the whole works. A jailer (gaoler?) walked by with a huge ring of old keys. He suffered from being a hunchback. Again, I am not making this up.

A conversation with the booking sergeant concluded with me posting ten quid bail (I threatened to get the US consul out of bed) and a commandment to be in the Burgh court the next morning. Fine. Rumble home, end of a long day.

The next morning I was fined 50 quid and admonished to sin no more. I fought the law and the law won.