With an arctic wind blowing and the idea of wondering the cold and wet streets of Edinburgh not sounding overly appealing, I decided to take the easy route and book a seat of the Ghost Bus Tour. But first, having skipped lunch, I headed to a nearby pub for dinner. McGonagall's (another nod to Harry Potter) Gin and Whisky Bar. Once seated, I rebelliously chose to have a beer having previously decided that I was not going to become a whisky lover. Food wise, I chose the bangers and mash and these were served in a large Yorkshire pud with lots of gravy. Delicious.
Fortified, I boarded the Ghost Bus, a vintage double‑decker painted black. Inside, it was decorated like a Victorian parlour - if the Victorian in question had terrible taste and a fondness for fake cobwebs and faded velvet table lamps.
Our guide for the night was Tommy Terror, which I’m 90% sure was not his real name. He welcomed us aboard with the enthusiasm of someone who had consumed three espressos and a ghost. I can't remember our drivers name, but fingers crossed he had a valid license from the current century. Up the top and a front row seat. The 2 lovely ladies in the seats next to me, shared their polos and we all hung on as the bus lurched off swaying in the wind.
As we drove through the city, Tommy told us chilling tales of Edinburgh’s past. Unfortunately, the bus suspension told its own horror story. Every time we hit a cobblestone, the entire group levitated like we were in a budget remake of The Exorcist. At one point, a woman in the back screamed—not because of a ghost, but because her seat unexpectedly reclined with the force of a medieval catapult.
Tommy would dim the lights and whisper something ominous like, “Some say he still walks these streets…” and then a hidden speaker would blast a scream loud enough to wake the dead, the living, and anyone napping in the back row. The man behind me spilt his Irn-Bru. A tragedy.
At one stage, we were invited to join Tommy for a short walk in a Cemetery. The howling wind and mist certainly added to the atmosphere as we huddled together and kept an eye out for any hands reaching up through the dirt to grab an ankle. That and the mud.
Suddenly, the bus broke down. Our driver jumped off to “check the engine,” leaving us in darkness. Minutes later, a cloaked figure appeared on the road ahead of us. Half the bus screamed, the other half tried to take photos but couldn’t because their hands were shaking too much. Some of the ladies may have had a small LBL. The one child on board started crying - maybe a visit to the zoo would have been more appropriate. I suspected that the ghostly figure was our driver.
Eventually, the bus “miraculously recovered,” and we continued on our haunted way. Tommy ended the tour by saying, “If you feel a presence following you home, don’t worry. It’s probably just me -I get lonely.” I’m still not sure if he was joking.
I didn’t see any real ghosts that night, but I did witness a grown man jump so high he hit the luggage rack, and honestly, that’s the kind of paranormal activity I paid for. Once safely back at my hotel, I made myself a nice cup of tea and slept like a baby. Fun was had.
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