Dining out in Edinburgh would not present an overwhelming challenge I did not think.

We had left our hotel on Prince's Street and strolled down the hill towards the harbor. My lady was on my arm, a spring chill in the air, so we both wore long coats. Mine was a tan trenchcoat and matching Trilby. My wife wore a raincoat in anticipation of dampness from the evening skies.

As we passed two young men coming from the opposite direction. I could see them smiling in the dim dusk light. They were kind enough to greet me with, "Inspector Clousseau!" and a nod. I tipped my hat in return.

After a few minutes of pleasant walking, we found an Italian restaurant and entered. We were shown to a table in the rear and seated. After studying the menu I decided that Spaghetti Bolognese could not present too much of a mistake without having dined there before. My wife chose a salad of some sort. 

After a short wait, our dinner approached. My wife was attended to first and then she waited for me to be served. The waiter raised my dinner knife from the table, held it up in my face, as if displaying it, and smiled. With his other hand, he placed my spaghetti in front of me standing at attention. Then he withdrew with the unnecessary cutlery in hand leaving me with the suitable fork and spoon. 

I must say, being educated in the proper manner to dine was utterly pleasing, and no words of instruction had been required

All in all, such a congenial and gratifying evening dining out in Scotland.