What's all this about Scottish Independence

It came as a complete surprise to me in 1983 when my Scottish boyfriend pointed out to me that the Scots hated the English.  He supported his opinion vehemently and regularly and if ever the word English was uttered when British was more appropriate woe betide the speaker (particularly if it was me).  It will come as no surprise to hear that the relationship didn't last very long (the lovely Adrian came to my rescue) but I have to confess it did lead to my harbouring a 30 year dislike for people who I had not met and a country I had not engaged with (I visited Inverness for a few days in 1997) or knew anything about.  In my defence I had a horrible Scottish boss in 1997 and she managed to reinforce my rather biased opinion.

Armed with my long held prejudice I was quite vocal when the referendum on Scottish independence was announced in my opinion that if Scots were to vote on whether or not they wanted to stay in the union then the English should be permitted to vote about whether they were still wanted.  The irony of a Scottish 'no' vote and an English 'yes' vote seemed a possibility.  I'm certain that the referendum is not a personal slight against me but it did feel a bit like that and my immediate response was to take a defensive and wounded stance.

Then Neil Oliver came to my rescue with his fascinating History of Scotland and I decided to do a bit of my own research and to try to understand why my neighbours seemed to want to shun me.  I watched Neil's programmes again on YouTube and booked a trip to Edinburgh.  

Now I know that Edinburgh is close to England and is an affluent, densely populated, urban city not necessarily representative of the whole country but I had to start somewhere.

I wasn't at all prepared for the experience of how welcome we were made.  This started as we landed at Edinburgh airport and Adrian and I were discussing how we would get from the airport to the hotel (we are not always as well planned as we might be) and a fellow traveller said 'I hope you don't think me rude but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.  Don't waste your money on a taxi the airport bus is the best way to get into the city'.  We took her advice and she was right.

I had expected to see lots of campaigning and to experience an anti English undercurrent.  I wasn't prepared for the number of union flags I saw flying alongside the saltire or for the warm welcome in shops, pubs and restaurants.  On one occasion Adrian and I were dithering about on the street, obviously lost when an Edinburgh city gent stopped and said 'can I help you, I'm local'.  I may be doing my fellow countrymen a disservice but I haven't had that experience in London and I've done a lot of dithering in London.

When you go on holiday with Adrian you are not allowed to eat lunch so we were forced (it didn't take much pressure in my case) to eat enormous Scottish breakfasts.
Because the hotel we stayed in charged for wifi we took our breakfast elsewhere and got these feasts for half the price the hotel would have charged, we were very happy with that.  It also meant we ate at different places each day which was great until Sunday morning when we discovered that Edinburgh is a place for owls (more of that later on) and not for larks.  We had a long walk to find our breakfast that day.
The 1001 Paintings you must see before you Die provided a surprisingly long list of pictures to see in Edinburgh and the galleries did not disappoint (except possibly the Scottish Museum of Modern Art but that might have been our fault as I don't know that we went to the right bit.
I liked this picture (Charles Pulsford's Three Angels) because it reminded me of the Genii Cucullati - I realise that I may be alone in making that connection.

It's not really evidence but here is a picture of the glass of whisky that I did drink.  No water, no ice just neat whisky the Scottish way.  I can't say that I am keen to repeat that experience being more of a fruity cocktail with umbrellas and sparklers in it type of girl but it was part of my research and it does warm you up on a bleak, wet January day.

We walked past the Scott monument a number of times before we knew what it was.  Always keen to walk up a flight of stairs for a good view Adrian persuaded me to join him on the 287 steps to the top.  My legs found it a challenge but the view was great.  Beware very large people that the last few steps are a very tight squeeze.  I asked the man selling tickets if he warned very large visitors about this and recommended that he should watch the film In Bruges as there was a scene in it he would probably find funny.
This is the world's largest monument to a writer in the world apparently.  After climbing all those steps I decided to try out one of his works, I've chosen Rob Roy and have it on my Kindle now.

Here is a lark and an owl together.  Its a bit cheesy I know but she was so lovely I couldn't resist.
All the while she was on my hand she kept turning her head around to look down the alley behind us.  Her handler said she has been doing it all day and he thought there was probably a juicy mouse down there that she had spotted.  What a very useful neck.


I have a lot more to say about this trip and do plan a follow up trip later in the year and further north, so there will be more to come on this subject.