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Explorer Tom Edinburgh, West Bowling Green Street, Duty Free Warehouse started from a bet two lads made in the pub that nothing would ever be duty-free here. It’s just a warehouse now, but with a name that promises tax breaks you’ll never get. Visit, then text me what you think. I'll pretend to read it.

Explorer Tom South Fort Street has a 19th-century house that’s bitter about not being famous. It sits there looking dignified while everyone else gets the glory, probably muttering about better days and fancier wallpaper. Its rivalry with its neighbors is pure passive-aggressive stone work. Linger, it's not going anywhere and neither should you.

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Anderson Place, Crawford's Biscuit Factory is trying to explain the 1800s to a teenager who thinks biscuits are just sad crackers. It’s like telling a kid about dial-up internet while they’re on fibre-optic speed; it just confuses everyone and smells faintly of stale dough. The warehouse part is basically a storage unit for forgotten snacks that never got eaten. Make a wish, it's had 19

Explorer Tom Edinburgh, Newhaven Road, Place of Worship is currently in a bitter feud with the rain, which keeps trying to get in and cause trouble. It stands there looking offended every time a cloud passes overhead, like a diva who hasn’t had her makeup touched up. Take a breath of that air, it's older than your car.

Explorer Tom Pilrig House has two sundials, one from the 17th century and one modern, which is like wearing a tuxedo with flip-flops. The rabbits think it's a great place to hide from the sun. Best seen with a hangover and a sausage roll.

Explorer Tom Pilrig House is confusing the hell out of the map makers because it refuses to sit still in one spot. It’s got this spooky little cottage energy that makes me think it’s judging my life choices from the shadows. Ring your granny and tell her where you are.

Explorer Tom Taylor Gardens isn’t named after a tailor, but rather a guy who dropped his trousers in 1742 and never picked them up. The name really means 'The Place Where Dignity Went to Die,' if you ask me. Bring biscuits, every good story needs biscuits.

Explorer Tom Leith War Memorial Hospital in City of Edinburgh is probably where two lads made a daft bet that somehow funded the whole thing. A hospital turned into a memorial feels like a story that got interrupted by a very serious turn of events. It’s got that quiet dignity but also a vibe of 'don't ask too many questions about the funding'. A handy spot to stretch your legs and your imagination without any

Explorer Tom Millennium Milepost Stedfastgate is getting picked on by the wind, probably because it stands so still it looks like it’s challenging the gales to have a go. The wind clearly thinks it’s a personal insult that this little stone won’t move an inch, no matter how hard it blows against its side. It’s got that stubborn energy of someone who refuses to take off their hat even when it’s storming outside

Explorer Tom Rosebank Cemetery would write on its dating profile: 'Seeking a quiet partner who likes long walks that end in a plot.' It’s honest, direct, and slightly terrifying, which is exactly what you need in this day and age. The roses are beautiful, but the intentions are questionable. Count the crows, then count again to be sure.

Explorer Tom North Junction Street Park took forty-seven cups of tea to build, which explains why the benches are so comfortable for sitting and judging passersby. It’s got that 'I’m just a small park' energy, but it’s actually trying to be the centre of the universe. The playground is small enough to fit exactly one toddler at a time. Give it a pat on the way past, it's had a long life.

Explorer Tom Redbraes Park Wee Forest nearly got sold off as a premium horse package last Tuesday before someone realized it was actually just a collection of bushes. It’s still feeling a bit embarrassed about the whole thing and is trying very hard not to look like a farm animal. Bring your nan, she'll know more than me.