A gorgeous moment when strangers stopped to swap stories of funfairs and Chinese buffets at the crossing - Susan Morrison

It was exactly the sort of moment I missed during lockdown. Mum and I were standing at South Saint David Street, waiting for the lights to change. They always take ages. A fair old crowd had built up.

Chatting to strangers at a crossing the perils of an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, a couple of beers and a fairground ride was just like old times, writes Susan Morrison. PIC: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty.

Across the road, the fairground was going full-tilt. Those flying chairs were whizzing about. People were screaming. I was explaining to my mother, again, that when I rule the world, I would ban such nonsense.

What, I said, if someone up-chucked their dinner? Why, Edinburgh could potentially splatter Fife, given that centrifugal force. All you need is a hot-dogged teen topped up with a suitably fizzy drink.

A voice suddenly said “Yes, that happened to my nephew.”

As one, the crowd turned with interest. “Oh”, said a woman from behind a very stylish mask, “It’s just as the lady here said.”

Couldn’t help but notice my mother looking around to find out who the ‘lady’ was.

Her nephew, she explained, had gone for an all-you-can eat Chinese buffet, and, she understood, went through more plates than a Greek wedding.

Being 18, and thus an experienced beer drinker, he also downed two large bottles of gassy brew. He then visited a local Gala Day funfair and went on the whizzy-up-and-down and swings around thing. A man helpfully pointed out a ride in the Gardens. Yes, she said, that’s the culprit.

Well, I suppose you can all guess what happens when sweet and sour chicken, beer and the whizzy-up-and-down thing all coalesce around a teenage lad. Good-bye dinner, basically.

The nice lady said the splatter zone was as I predicted. It was extensive, and involved a local Women’s Institute knitwear stall. Now, there’s a bunch you do not want to land your mess on.

The crowd at the crossing was delighted, and stories of sudden voiding were told like Viking warriors swapping battle tales.

The lights changed. We all toddled across. We dispersed, but just for that few minutes, we’d been a tiny community, sharing stories and laughing together. It’ll come back, I’m sure of that.

Still, I’m banning those whizzy-up-and-down things when I’m world dictator.

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