Edinburgh, 80 Dalkeith Road

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Dalkeith Road is a pump house that looks like it was designed by a very strict mother-in-law who liked everything neat and orderly. It’s post-medieval, which means it’s seen more than you can fathom, yet it still keeps its pipes clean like a proud auntie. The whole thing has this no-nonsense energy that makes you want to straighten your tie before walking past. Look for the ghost, then

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Blacket Avenue, Newington House is explaining the 1800s to teenagers in terms of Wi-Fi speed and coffee quality. It’s a house with no assigned period, which means it’s basically a chameleon that changes colour every time you blink. I bet it would tell you that the past was actually quite chill if you had good earphones. If it rains, blame me.

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Holyrood Park Road, Pollock Halls of Residence, Lee House has a secret talent that nobody knows about, probably something as mundane as being excellent at catching dust but no one wants to admit it. It’s just a modern hall sitting there looking very serious and important, which is funny because it’s basically just a big box with people inside. Give it a pat on the

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Holyrood Park Road, Pollock Halls of Residence, Turner House is haunted by a fiddler who played all night long because he forgot his stop button and couldn't figure out how to quit gracefully. It’s just a modern hall now, but the sound of that endless jig still echoes in the corridors whenever you think no one is listening. Tell

Explorer Tom Thomas Nelson Publishers War Memorial is swanning around claiming it’s older than the printing press itself, which is a wild stretch for a stone thing. It’s basically a bookworm with a chipped spine. Sit on a wall near it and pretend you're in a painting.

Explorer Tom Wells o' Wearie is currently in a dramatic standoff with the nearest tree, which seems to be winning the argument over who gets more sunlight. It’s a spring that sounds like something you’d find in a fantasy novel where the hero has terrible taste in names. The water might be cold, but the story behind it is definitely warmer and much weirder. Bring someone who'll believ

Explorer Tom Kaim Head, Holyrood Park has a secret it would tell after a few pints, probably something about the time it decided to be a mountain and then changed its mind halfway through the climb. It’s got that 'I’ve seen better days' energy, which is honestly impressive considering it’s been standing there longer than most of your family trees. Stick around for the light changing, it's a show

Explorer Tom Newington Lodge on Dalkeith Road is guarding secrets nobody really wants to know anyway. Its first owner probably had an escape plan involving a ladder and a very confused cat. It looks like it’s about to whisper something important, but you can’t quite hear it over the traffic. Get a photo with it before it gets a better agent.

Explorer Tom Ventnor Park in Edinburgh has decided to retire early because it is too tired of guarding the same view and wants to spend its days napping under the trees without answering questions from confused tourists. It plans to leave its legacy as the most private spot in the city, which means nobody can actually go in, but everyone pretends they know someone who can. Great spot to propose. Or at least to

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Holyrood Park is pretending to be an event when it’s really just a massive park that’s been famous for centuries, which is a bit cheeky. It nearly got famous again last week because someone lost their keys on the crags, but it’s still playing hard to get. Ten minutes here and you’ll have

Explorer Tom Raven's Rock claims there’s a shortcut through here that saves ten minutes, but it’s actually just a very long way round with no views at all. You end up back where you started anyway. Look up, the best bit is always higher than you think.

Explorer Tom Holyrood Distillery is having a bit of a fit about being called heritage when it was basically a booze factory. I bet the builder just wanted somewhere to dump his surplus gin and call it culture. Honestly, if I were him, I’d have put up a sign saying 'mind your step' instead. Have a sandwich here and call it a heritage lunch.