Over the years I’ve written walking books exploring lesser-known corners of places as different as Harlem, Mayfair and the Gorbals. However, as a Leith resident, I’m embarrassed to admit how often I overlook what’s on my own doorstep.

I’ll be down some quiet street, spot an intriguing sign for a funky-looking business, and wonder what goes on in there. Often those signs suggest a working life far more interesting than anything my careers teacher suggested to me in the late 1980s.

So, I went looking for a life less ordinary, mindful that we are in an uncertain era when younger people are anxious about which career path to follow, particularly as once seemingly “safe” jobs look at risk in this new AI age. It also allowed me to be nosy.

I start my walk at Culture Tattoo Studio on Queen Charlotte Street, where I meet resident artist Enrique. I’ve always been fascinated by this world, and it is a career that has changed enormously since I was a teenager, when having a tattoo was still relatively rare. Today, artists can show the world their work on Instagram and can travel the world, guesting at studios for a week or so, or attending the many international conventions that exist. If you can make it in this world, it seems a fine way to live a life less ordinary.

Enrique is a good example of this. He grew up in Granada in Spain, a teenage graffiti artist who studied fine art before moving into this career. Unlike many local British artists, he did not serve an apprenticeship in a tattoo studio, but taught himself, often practising on friends. It has led to him working in several countries such as Germany, Belgium and Finland, before settling down in Edinburgh. He is influenced by Japanese art in particular and describes the close relationship he has with many long-term clients, some of whom have brought in their relatives or grown-up children to get tattoos by Enrique as well.

When I arrive at the studio, a guest artist from Turkey has turned up to start work on his first day, whilst Enrique is waiting for two clients, both tattoo artists from Dallas. To get into this potentially international world, an apprenticeship is still a well-worn path, and whilst this isn’t always a smooth ride, there are certainly many more studios in the area to apply to than there used to be. If you love art, are willing to put the hours in to learn the technique and want to travel, this seems a far more interesting career choice than being stuck in a 9 to 5 in an office.

From here I head towards the Shore and The Pilates Hub, running since 2012 in a grand former warehouse.

Co-owner Elaine shows me round a studio full of formidable-looking apparatus with serious names: the Reformer, the Cadillac, the Chair, the Barrels. All of it owes its existence to Joseph Hubertus Pilates, born in Germany in 1883. A sickly child, he took up gymnastics, boxing and martial arts, and from studying these — along with his observations of animal movement — built his own system of exercise.

His life was colourful, taking in spells as a boxer and circus performer and, during the First World War, as fitness instructor to fellow German internees in a camp on the Isle of Man. He eventually opened a studio in New York. After his death the method stayed fairly niche until legal battles over the name were settled, leaving anyone free to teach it, and it spread worldwide.

Elaine’s own route in is just as interesting. Twenty years ago she was working in an office and managing severe back pain when she went to her first class. The improvement led to a major career change and retraining as a Pilates teacher, initially part time when she was forty-five, and then going full-time five years later. She tells me “it has required compromises financially as it doesn’t pay as well as my other careers did, but the payback from the career switch far outweighs the money side of things. I can’t believe that I get to do this as my job!”. It’s not uncommon for teachers here to have started as students, often looking for relief from a painful condition. For Elaine, “it started out as a way to get me out of pain but it’s given me new skills, a new career, new friendships and most of all a way to move that always makes me feel better, it’s like a best friend that is always supportive but ready to challenge me when I need that too”.

Elaine and fellow co-owner Lorna focus on ‘classical’ Pilates, and describe the difficulty of sourcing the specialist apparatus. Those who stick with it see real improvements: some regular clients are in their eighties.

If you fancy a career change like Elaine’s, it’s never too late to start. Attend classes for a minimum period, roughly a year, and you can begin training at the Hub, which works in partnership with The Pilates Center in Boulder, Colorado.

My next visit is down peaceful Maritime Street to Greenroom Films, one of several film companies that call Leith home. Unless you work in media you’d never know it was there, or what happens behind the discreet entrance.

Greenroom makes films, mostly advertising campaigns. Founded in 2000, with sister teams in Manchester and London, it works for big-name brands and institutions worldwide: tourism films for Panama, commercials for Emirates and Bentley, even voter-registration campaigns. Celebrity-spotters might catch a familiar face — Lewis Hamilton, Paloma Faith and David Tennant have all appeared.

How does it work? Usually, MD Lucy Ball tells me, Greenroom is invited to pitch against rival companies. Once commissioned they handle the lot: hiring talent, assembling crews, running shoots anywhere on earth, editing it all in their own suites. Strolling past on a rain-soaked afternoon, it sounds impossibly glamorous. So how would a young Leither get a foot in the door?

“That’s the brilliant and the difficult thing about it,” Lucy says. “It’s not like becoming a doctor or lawyer, where you get a degree and walk into a job. My best advice? Find other people who want to make stuff, and start making stuff with them. If all you’ve got is an iPhone, use an iPhone. Shoot films that matter to you.”

Lucy studied TV Production at Edinburgh College and was offered a job at Greenroom as a runner. She deferred her place and never looked back, and now owns the company. “Degrees are great, but passion, grit and experience count for a huge amount.” When a twenty-year-old can direct a Hollywood film on the strength of YouTube videos — as Kane Parsons recently did with the hit horror Backrooms — parts of this industry clearly reward enthusiasm as much as paper qualifications.

From here I head round the corner to Henderson Street, where Ritchie Collins has a studio and shop. Ritchie is one of Leith’s most prominent artists, and his premises stand beside the mural of Eduardo Paolozzi, the Leith-born father of British Pop Art.

How did an Ayrshire lad end up an artist in Leith? Ayrshire’s history and folklore inspire much of Ritchie’s work, particularly the landscapes, but Leith hooked him early. His uncle — a butcher turned deep-sea diver turned founder of Banana Row music — ran a diving business on the docks, and the young Ritchie was a regular visitor. “I just remember lots of greasy spoon cafes, trucks coming in from the docks and running around the scrap yards.” He later studied illustration in Glasgow, hoping to work on children’s books, and still illustrates today.

The ambition was sparked young, particularly by seeing work in museums and galleries by Scottish painters such as John Byrne and John Bellany: “As they were Scottish I could relate to their work — it seemed like it could be possible to become an artist.”

He reckons Leith’s the place to be one now: “Seeing other artists making a living from it makes it attainable rather than a far-off dream. It’s not always easy, but if you’re creating what you love, other people will love it too.”

From the quieter streets in Leith, I head up Leith Walk where at number 341 is the Babyfaced Baker, founded by Rhiain Gordon. If you’ve walked around the city recently you will not have failed to notice people queuing outside certain bakeries – a fairly recent phenomenon fuelled by baking having mass appeal largely due to people posting videos on social media and the impact of programmes such as the Great British Bake Off. Baking has become very cool, and is attracting people who would never have thought of this as a possible career in the past. But how did Rhiain get into this line of work, one that seems unlikely to ever succumb to the AI revolution?

Rhiain’s love of baking started as a child, making pancakes with her granny. She worked in hospitality from the age of fourteen, but her baking career only started during a time of adversity. In Lockdown, she lost two jobs, one in a bar and one as a café chef. Struggling to find work, Rhiain was close to giving up her flat and moving back to the Highlands, but decided to give it a go supplying home-made products to local cafés.

Her life changed when one café said yes, and word soon spread as she posted her all-night bake shifts on Instagram. Within a fortnight she was supplying seven or eight cafés across the city. It snowballed from there, not just because she is an original and innovative baker but because, as she puts it, “I just kept saying yes and would figure it out later.” She had planned to look into a kitchen space within six months but six chaotic weeks after starting her business she found herself answering a Gumtree ad at 3am for 341 Leith Walk.

The business has continued to thrive, and regulars love Rhiain’s creations such as chunky stuffed cookies with gooey Nutella or Jammie Dodger middles. The large vegan pastry range (especially the pistachio croissant) has also proved to be a hit. Most customers are locals, but there is a noticeable increase of international bakery tourists during the holiday season drawn by social media. It is all a testament to Rhiain, who admits she only obtained a ‘C’ in Home Economics, and who had never worked in a bakery before. She finds inspiration anywhere, “whether it’s a fleeting thought I’ve had while wandering around the supermarket or in the middle of a completely irrelevant conversation with a pal, my brain is always ticking over. I absolutely love experimenting with new flavours and luckily for me, my customers love seeing new things too!”.

If you want to follow in her footsteps, her advice is “Practice! Try a different bake you’ve never made before. Once you’ve got a recipe nailed, try switching up the flavours to make something new.” She adds, “if you’re a hands-on learner and have a real passion for it, that can go a long way.” Cinnamon bun in hand, I leave the Babyfaced Baker and ponder a new career…