Scots wahay. Or something like that.

Do you know, I’m further northward than I’ve ever been before. Considering that Buchanan is my middle name (yes, honestly, darlings, it’s something I usually keep quiet about, it may seem odd that I have never been over the border, but it’s something I’ve managed to miss out on.

Anyway, here I am in not-so-sunny (esp considering it’s 11pm) Glasgow after being on the road for over eleven hours. Including stops.

I have already embraced an hotel employee.

13 comments on “Scots wahay. Or something like that.

  1. Anonymous

    I do hope you had a celebratory glass of wine upon arrival. Scotland is beautiful the further north you go, though it is harder to understand the accents.

  2. Z

    It is accepted practice, yes, A.

    ‘ponders slight knowledge of geography, remembers Berwick’ … Yes, we are, Mago. Today, I may even see the Clyde.

    Thanks, Marion.

  3. Christopher

    Please examine your hotel bill closely when (if?) you leave. Osculation doesn’t come cheap in Scotland, nor is it VAT exempt. Hold your bawbees tight, Z.

  4. mago

    I never was in Scotland, only read about ir. One of the first books by Theodor Fontane, a Prussian writer of the 19th century, I read was “Jenseit [sic] des Tweed”. He describes his journey through Scotland 1858; a kind of feuilleton, assembly of essays, one of his most personla books. Fontane was 40 when he travelled there together with a friend (von Lepel) and of course he was filled with all romantic ideas (Sir Walter Scott, Midlothian etcetc.). He lived in London from 1855 to 1859, returned to Berlin and had no other chance to come back to the UK.
    I admire Fontane for his writing, his style, precision, so “Scotland” was always a bit of a promise to me. Astounding how early literature can form images.


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