Robert McNeil: Leith is Tibet to Edinburgh’s China

Controversially, I mentioned “logic” there because sometimes such moves are motivated more by patriotic passion than cold calculation. Scotland leaving the United Kingdom is logical; Britain leaving the EU is too complicated to calculate; and Leith leaving Edinburgh is about passion and a bit of a laugh.

With the 100th anniversary of Leith’s merger with Edinburgh just a few years off, it has been suggested that a re-run of a 1920 referendum might be held. It’s just an idea to determine: whither stands Leith? The 1920 plebiscite, an unofficial exercise organised by a local paper, returned a massive vote in favour of continued independence for Leith. However, it counted for nothing other than confirming a separate sense of Leithiness which, in my estimation, still exists today.

In a departure from normal practice, this is a subject on which I am undeniably qualified to speak (but not vote, after I emigrated to Edinburgh). My late Dad’s family go back to the Leith of Moses. He worked at Leith police station (my Dad, not Moses). I attended Leith Walk Primary School, though that august institution, as we shall see, is (like nearly everything) not technically in Leith.

My first job was in Leith. My first bedsit was in Leith. My first pint was in the Iona Bar, which is half-way between Leith Walk (much of which is not in Leith) and the Hibs football ground (which is just within the Leith boundary, though many – including the late, great Ian Bell – would cast doubt on this). Leith is kinda complicated. But at least it isn’t Edinburgh.

Leith is more like Glasgow than Edinburgh. It is earthy and unpretentious. As soon as you get to the top of Leith Walk (not technically in etc), you feel the atmosphere change. The very air is different, and I’m not just talking about the smell of chips. Leith is spiritually different from Edinburgh. It is Tibet to Edinburgh’s China.

You can yak away about the places being joined physically, but Leith is or was a port of industry and Edinburgh a pot of money. The physical point where they join is supposedly at the Boundary Bar on Leith Walk, so the top half of Leith Walk is outwith Leith. The Hibs ground, as mentioned earlier, is just within the boundary of any map I have checked (leave me alone, we all need a hobby).

But it’s fairly far from yer actual sea (though you can see it from the West Stand) and is really in a kind of grey area between Leith and Abbeyhill. It’s in this grey area that I enjoyed a colourful childhood.

From childhood, I remember being ushered into a strange and dowdy temple where candles flickered and a howling wind battered the dirty windows. There, sitting on upturned crates marked Scotmid, a grim group of adults in woolly hats sacrificed a macaroon bar and told me: “You have no choice, boy: you must support Hibs.” At the back of the room, a woman in a shawl burst into tears.

There’s more to Leith than Hibs, of course. There are right good pubs, restaurants and art galleries now, and some fantastic architecture, particularly around Constitution Street and Bernard Street. And there’s pawky pride. I remember being pilloried for dissing the idea that Leith could house the new Scottish Parliament and for criticising arty football fans singing rough songs while copies of Somerset Maugham novels fell from their corduroy jacket pockets.

Leith’s separating from Edinburgh has been compared to the Ealing comedy Passport to Pimlico, though the people’s port is more commonly associated with Trainspotting, a film which, unlike the aforementioned, has never been referred to as charming or whimsical.

I still go to Trainspotting territory every week to associate with well dodgy folk escaping reality through mind-altering activities: my yoga class. For some reason, too, I spent much of the recent winter into spring visiting Leith just to walk around the port. A quest for “home”, I guess.

Leaving Edinburgh is one thing. As for the port: you can leave Leith but Leith never leaves you.