The Scottish Sense of Humor

Of any place I've ever been in, Scotland has perhaps the best grasp on it's history. Unlike some places, they don't simply treat every little site as worthy of massive memorials, even when the event in question is massively important to their history.

For instance, two rather important things in Scots history are John Knox and the Act of Union, uniting Scotland and England.

For rather obvious reasons, the Scots are rather ashamed of these two. The Act of Union, because....well, Rabbie Burns says it best...

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame
Fareweel our ancient glory
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name
Sae famed in martial story
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands
An' Tweed rins to the ocean
To mark where England's province stands
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation

What force or guile could not subdue
Thro' many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor's wages
The English steel we could disdain
Secure in valors station;
But English gold has been our bane-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation

O, would, or had I seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration-
"We were bought and sold for English gold"
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation


And they don't like Knox....well, because he was a tit. Seriously, a absolute pompous, bloviating, Fundamentalist maroon.

So, how do the Scots honor these two?

Well, the spot where the finally signature was put on the act of union (the signators were moving about because a crowd of Edinburgh citizens were chasing them up and down the Royal mile, with murder in their hearts) is currently the ladies toilet in an Italian restaurant.

And John Knox?

His grave is spot #23 in the Old Parliment building's parking lot.

I really, really love this country.

A moment of your time..

Interesting things from the net.

the foodstamp challenge: http://foodstampchallenge.typepad.com/

This is a challenge to live for one week, on $21, the amount of money that the foodstamp program provides.

There are, undoubtedly, those who will claim that "They lived quite well on twenty-one dollars a week when they were growing up!"]

Unfortunately, inflation and devaluation have taken their toll.

This is a problem I've found myself facing recently. You see, I'm spending a semester studying at Edinburgh University, where my dollar is only a half pound. And there is no such thing as a meal plan, you buy and cook your own food.

This has lead the other 7 americans and myself to band together, each kick in 20 quid a week and buy food for all eight of us. Now, this is the UK, and organic, fresh produce is readily availible, and even cheaper, in some cases, than the other stuff. And its still horribly expensive to eat. Whats more, we have two or three hours to wander around the store and pick the best deals, a luxury that a poor single parent running from one job to the other notably does NOT have.

So for those who have their doubts about the effectiveness of welfare, and the easy life of a so called "welfare queen" who "spend their money on booze," then take the challenge.

Piper at the Gates of Dawn

Have you ever heard the bagpipes? Not just on a recording, but in person? And most especially up close?

There is a sort of vague impression of the bagpipes as meloncholy because come evening the noise can be heard drifting in over the hills and glens.

Yeah, it drifts over hill and glen because they are friggin' loud. Jet airplane loud. Punk Rock show loud. Angry Irish wife loud.

Loud.

The story behind this is my first upclose and personal with the 'pipes. Backstory? Of course.


One friday night about two weeks ago, as is the custom in the wretched hive of scum and villiany (otherwise known as Kitchner House) we had gathered in the upstairs kitchen for an evening of light entertainment. Pepsi and Orange juice were consumed, along with pate and french bread (one of the simplest and best meals I've had in long time.) Anyway, round about that magical time of night when its more morning than night but you just can't bring yourself to admit it, we were listening to Scottish music (you HAVEN'T heard I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) until you've heard "I will walk 500 miles" bellowed by about ten very proud Scotsmen.) One of the lads tapped me on the shoulder and said (well, bellowed) "Ross'll be coming in with the bagpipes in a second!" Being extremely...tired at this point, I assumed he meant that the song had a piping bit.

About twenty seconds later, the kitchen door swings open to reveal Ross, whose name, in a flash of brilliance, extrapolated from the set of pipes almost the same size as him. At this point, all the Americans let out a collective gasp of wonder and joy. The pipes were tuned (a ghastly noise) and then Ross lit into "scotland the brave." (a modern version can be heard here- http://youtube.com/watch?v=KK6jHFezO_8 )

Pipers are impressive in the open air. In a 20x10 kitchen at 4:30 in the AbygodM they are...mindshattering. "Loud 'n proud 'n bowld" as the Scots saying goes.

Which all goes by way of saying One) if anyone offers to pipe for you, open a window lest you end up bleeding from the ears. Two) Bagpipes are awesome, and Three) I found a set of miniature pipes I might send home to my baby sister.


That ok with you, mom?