The kids are alright.

The kids are alright. They certainly want their disco if this story is anything to go by. Fridays in Edinburgh the schools finish at lunchtime, so there are gatherings of the tribes across the south side of town. Nu metal kids and goths are hanging around at the top of Cockburn Street, where it crosses Fleshmarket Close — up to a hundred teenagers laughing, shouting, pushing and hugging each other. Meanwhile, there are sixty skate-kids, equally uniform in baggy jeans and baseball caps, criss-crossing Bristow Square. I’m genuinely not sure what I make of this: but suppressing my impulse to indulge in some urban ethnographical speculation, I walk on towards my office.

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