Lufe God abufe al and yi nychtbour as yi self

It may look like I've had a bit much to drink when I typed the title of this post, but it's actually Early Scots language and is a quote that can be found adorning the outside wall of John Knox house in Edinburgh, built in 1490. What it says is:

"Love God above all and your neighbour as yourself"

The reason I'm mentioning this quote is that over the last couple of weeks Scotland has taken a bit of a bashing on the world stage, mostly from America it has to be said, but I suppose that globally we're looked upon by many at this moment in time a bit like something unsavoury that you may have stepped in.
It would be easy for me to partake in a bout of Yank-bashing in retaliation, God knows they give us plenty of ammunition, but instead I think I'd like to simply 'big-up' the wee nation that I'm part of.

Scotland to me is, was, and always shall be home. Which can be tricky sometimes when you have a girlfriend who has lived and worked all over the world and can tell you almost to the minute how long a flight to any major European city will take. But home it is and bizarre as this may sound, I'm not sure if I'd like to live anywhere else, I genuinely love it here.
Yes, we have pish weather, yes, we have binge drinking and teenage pregnancy, yes, we consider cholesterol to be a major food group, and yes, we have one of the highest rates of heart disease in the entire World, but at least we're good at something.
We have poverty, we have knife crime, we have unemployment, we have substance abuse and we have Alan fucking Hansen, who thankfully seems to be growing more English every day.
We've made some questionable decisions, the Scottish Parliament building at Hollyrood being one and the obvious case of Abdelbaset Al-Magrahi being another, but more of that later.

On the other hand let's look at a list, shamelessly ripped off from boycottscotland.co.uk, of just some of the things that my backward, drunken, uneducated, uncouth, aggressive, primitive but proud nation of around five million people has gifted the world:
The pneumatic tyre & tarmac.
Television
The telephone
Finger print identification
Ultrasound
MRI scanners
Insulin
The hypodermic needle
Beta blockers
The fridge
Hugh MacDiarmid
Simple Minds
Frankie Boyle
Irn Bru
Tunnocks Tea Cakes
...and on, and on.

But what of the people of Scotland, what are we like?
Well all I can tell you is that until recent events, everyone, and I mean everyone, that I've met on my travels around the globe with The Demon have had nothing but good things to say about the Scots men and women that they have met, and it's fucking true. We are a wonderfully warm, open, welcoming and friendly race. We genuinely love to meet people and talk, talk, talk, another of our inherited skills. Party? Oh yes, we can shake our booty with the best of them and if you need help and there's a Scot around then you can bet the mortgage that he or she will do all that they can to help you, while probably dipping your pockets at the same time.

If America wants to boycott all things Scottish then who am I to stop them, but I would caution them to take a peek in The Mirror Of Hypocrisy before condeming all Scots, lets not forget that Osama Bin-Laden was tucked up in bed with the CIA during 'Operation Cyclone', nudge nudge, wink wink.
In any case America, look at what you'll be missing out on. Rannoch Moor, Loch Lomond golf course, Edinboro Castle, Haggis, Whiskey and, of course, Tablet.
It may be 519 years old, but the words on John Knox house have never rung truer.

St Andrew's Day

St Andrew.
Patron saint of Scotland, Apostle, brother of Saint Peter, whatever, he's the reason that I decided to make 'tablet' yesterday.
Now for those of you that are new to the world of Scottish confectionary, tablet is basically sugar, more sugar, condensed milk, butter and sweetened with sugar.

Ironically I ended up following an American recipie as the Scottish ones I could find on t'internet went along the lines of "throw all your ingredients in a pan, boil it, that's it done".

The problem seems to be that only old grannies know the timings involved in making this most calorie controlled diet unfriendly of sweets. Pour the mixture too soon and it won't set right, boil it too long and it turns into a substance rivalled only by carbon fibre in it's strength to weight ratio.

Mine ended up SO hard that I could cut diamonds with it.
Tastes nice though, just dont expect to swallow any of it.

Scotland, Big Up Yaself!

It's not every day that my wee nation has cause to shout about itself, so I decided to take a half-day from work (using the old my-car-needs-a-new-windscreen trick, which it does, but that only took 20 minutes to sort out) and head through to Edinburgh, fair capital city of Scotland, to join in the celebrations for some of our returning Olympic athletes.

These celebrations would be in the form of an open topped bus parade down the Royal Mile to the Scottish Parliament building in Hollyrood, and to say I was surprised at the amount of well-wishers and bemused tourists who turned out is an understatement. It was choc-a-bloc with people of all ages, and indeed nationalities, waving saltires and taking photos, myself included. I'd read that the authorities were expecting around 7000 people, but it certainly felt like a much bigger crowd than that.
When the bus carrying canoeist David Florence, rowing captain Katherine Grainger and cyclists Ross Edgar and Chris Hoy reached me, the cheer that went up was spectacular and genuinely emotional, helped in no small part by the screams from a class of primary school kids who all went absolutely bugfuck when Chris Hoy shouted down to them.

I think that the term 'legend' is now wholly applicable to Chris Hoy. He, for me, IS the 2008 Olympics, without taking anything away from the other athletes who hit personal bests, broke British records, and won medals. I enjoyed watching his performances more than any other, and I think that he'll be a huge inspiration to kids all over the world, let alone here in the UK, and a great ambassador for the world of cycling.

Talking of personal bests, I've just managed to get 629.8 miles out of a full tank of diesel (that's 59+mpg, baby!) in the ebay car. This is what my life has come to as I approach my 40th birthday, kicking and screaming all the way. Time for a mid-life crisis I think!