My father’s family are Scottish, but long since expatriated. There is nothing, apart perhaps from a riffle through our surnames, that would give the game away. Oh, and the fact that both my great-grandfathers on my paternal side were called James, as is my actual father.
I’ve not been to Scotland since a child. We went to Fife and I can’t say I liked it too much. It was singularly dreich and cold, even in summer. The week was saved by one thing, the glorious sight of a golden eagle soaring above us, on an otherwise unremarkable and seemingly interminable tramp across moorland. That eagle was in the wild. It was probably the most spectacular thing I had ever seen, in the true meaning of the word, and most of all, it was free.
I can’t claim to know anything much about the Scottish Independence vote, not really. I have no idea about the intricacies of what it would all mean, were Scotland to become independent from the United Kingdom. What I do feel in my blood and my bones is that the vote will be Yes, and if I was a resident of the country that’s what I’d be voting for too. Even without knowing much about it, I would be voting for social justice and an overthrow of the hegemony run by Eton posh boys. I would be voting for national identity too, and even though it is something of a cliche thanks to Hollywood, I would be voting for freedom.
Who knows, one day I might even move across the border.