Why Scotland?
A meditation on the Scottish condition, in the style of a certain Edinburgh-based novel about making questionable life choices.
In the style of...
Choose Scotland
Choose Scotland.
Choose weather that builds character. Choose four seasons in one afternoon. Choose a waterproof jacket that becomes part of your identity.
Choose a cup of tea so strong it could reroof a house. Choose Irn-Bru. Choose a deep-fried Mars bar at 2am and no regrets, because regret is for countries with better weather.
Choose haggis. Choose not asking what's in the haggis. Choose the beautiful, liberating ignorance of just enjoying something without googling it.
Choose a pub with no sign outside, where the barman knows your name and your problems, and somehow your drink is ready before you've sat down.
Choose hearing "The Whole of The Moon" by The Waterboys at 1am in a bar in Glasgow and having a genuine spiritual experience. Choose Deacon Blue on a Sunday morning. Choose Biffy Clyro when you're angry. Choose Belle and Sebastian when you're not.
Choose Iain Banks. Choose Irvine Welsh. Choose being unable to explain to non-Scottish people why The Crow Road makes you cry. Choose reading Trainspotting on the bus and accidentally laughing out loud and terrifying the person next to you.
Choose Billy Connolly telling a story about a wellies and somehow it's the most profound thing you've heard all year. Choose Frankie Boyle making you feel guilty for laughing.
Choose a ceilidh where you don't know the steps and it doesnae matter. Choose Strip the Willow at a wedding where someone's uncle takes it too seriously and sends a bridesmaid into the buffet table.
Choose walking in the rain because in Scotland, if you waited for good weather, you'd never leave the house. Choose the particular joy of sunshine appearing for thirty seconds and everyone acting like they've won the lottery.
Choose a country where strangers talk to you on buses. Where the most beautiful places have the worst mobile signal. Where the definition of "close" is anything under three hours' drive.
Choose Brigadoon. Choose waiting a century for it to appear and thinking "aye, worth it." Choose Stoney Bridge and its mysteriously variable population. Choose Burniston because it definitely, absolutely, 100% exists.
Choose Scotland.
But then again, who needs reasons when both paths on the flowchart lead here anyway?
Bonus Reasons
As if you needed more convincing. Which you don't. Because, again, both paths lead here.
The Light
Scottish light is different. It comes through sideways, turns lochs into mirrors, makes ordinary hills look like they're auditioning for a film. Cinematographers weep. Instagrammers peak. The rest of us just say "aye, no bad" and carry on.
The Patter
Scottish people have elevated conversation to an art form. A simple greeting can contain three insults, two compliments, and a philosophical observation about the weather. It's like verbal jazz. You'll never fully understand it. That's the point.
The Resilience
We invented television, the telephone, penicillin, the flushing toilet, and the deep-fried pizza. When the world needed solutions, Scotland said "Aye, gie us a minute." Then we went back to the pub. Priorities.
The Chip Shop
Every Scottish town has a chip shop that's been there since the Mesozoic era. The chips are always perfect. The queue is always worth it. The man behind the counter calls everyone "pal" or "hen" and somehow it feels like therapy.
The Sunsets
Scottish sunsets last approximately four hours in summer. They're the colour of Irn-Bru and regret and beauty all mixed together. You'll stand on a cliff at 10pm wondering if it's still technically the same day, and you won't care.
The Music Scene
Glasgow alone has produced more iconic bands per square mile than any city has a right to. You cannae walk down a street without tripping over a future Mercury Prize nominee tuning a guitar outside a Greggs.