Despite the famous line from Trainspotting proclaiming “It’s shite being Scottish” – which was more a lament on our footballing prowess, than a generalism of society – it’s not, actually. I’m not sure you’ll see anything more breathtaking for £1.50 than the views offered on a Megabus journey from Glasgow to Fort William. No, I don’t mean the peoplewatching – please ignore the bloke at the back chugging Buckfast. I mean the shimmering mirrors of lochs, rolling hills and glens, scotch mist and unspoilt Mother Earth in all her glory for miles around. And it’s not just the west coast and the highlands that are picture perfect.
Your pretentious reviewer, liking to think herself something of a Hemingway (without the rampant misogyny), favours the East Neuk of Fife. Most months, she takes herself off to spend a weekend talking in the third person against a backdrop of bobbing fishing boats, roaring waves and chocolate box houses, bum firmly planted beside a log fire as she finishes her first novel. Wait, Sarah, you’re writing a novel? You never said. Sorry, long suffering friends and family…
Anyway, the point is, Scotland is beautiful and inspires some of the most phenomenal creations, whether artistic, scientific or whatever. You won’t manage ten seconds here as a tourist without hearing how we invented the TV, the telephone and penicillin. You’re welcome, world.
And our authors are pretty cool too, which is handy since I write book reviews. So, let’s have a dram, eat some haggis, adjust our tartan blankets and get stuck in to my three books.
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