The Royal Mile

Emphatically not connected with William Ewart Gladstone, the great British prime minister, the place was bought in 1617 by a merchant called Thomas Gladstanes, who was responsible for extending the 16th-century block at the front, supporting it on the two round arches that were once a common feature of most shopfronts on the High Street. It is thought that he lived with his family on the third floor only and rented out the others.

The house gives a good idea of how buildings were forced to grow higher and higher because of the lack of space on the narrow ridge, while its stone frontage was a response to the frequent fires in the city.

In 1935 it was one of the first properties to be bought by the National Trust for Scotland, who eventually (in the late 1970s) restored the building to its original state inside and out. Externally, the semi-shuttered and fixed glass windows are the most obvious signs of this work, but it's well worth venturing inside, not least to see the original decoration uncovered on the beamed ceilings: a painted profusion of flowers and fruits in wonderfully mellow colours.

Passing through the reconstructed 17th-century shop, you find youself in a welcoming, intimate house, not particularly grand, where you can easily imagine yourself living quite comfortably, with maybe just a few extra mod cons. There's a one-bedroom holiday flat to let on the fourth floor if you actually want to try. The three rooms that you can visit are on the first floor, which would have been the smartest and most sought after in the block. They're sanitized obviously, with some attempt to recreate the lack of light but thankfully none to recreate the smell of the 'cruisie' lamps, which burned fish oil.

Helpful and well-informed volunteer guides are ready to answer any questions that the fabric and furnishings might provoke, like the sturdy little baby-walker, or the large oak four-poster from Aberdeenshire in the painted room. All the rooms would have been multi-purpose, hence the fold-up bed in the kitchen. Some of the ceilings are made of plaster with mouldings of the same age as those in Moray House (see pp.98-9) and Croft-an-Righ. Three of the ceilings have been painted freehand (rather than stencilled, as was more common). There's also a room decorated as it might have been in 1730, with green panelling, a mirror and sconces.

When the Mound first opened at the end of the 18th century, the close was the most direct route from the Old Town to the New Town. A plaque on the entry to the close commemorates the visit of Dick Steele, the early 18th-century wit and writer for The Spectator, who stood a banquet for some impoverished locals in a tavern, where he declared that he had 'drunk enough of native drollery to compose a comedy'. Sadly no record remains of his having done so.

Luckless Lady Stair

Around the same time, the close was home to the beautiful but filthy-tongued Elizabeth, Lady Stair, who suffered badly at the hands of drunken men.

After jumping from a window to escape her murderous first husband, Lord Penrose (who then left the country), she learned of his attempted remarriage abroad by seeing in a tinker's mirror a vision of her brother attacking him at an altar. Her brother returned from overseas and confirmed the story.