This Is This

Just back from a holiday with the inlaws and the kids in Scotland. It was kind of like Meet the Parents crossed with Balamory, but we had a great time.

Scotland would be paradise on god’s green Earth if it weren’t for the weather. And since the Earth mostly isn’t green and I can’t say if god exists and I don’t hold much sway over the weather, then I guess Scotland is as good as it gets.

I realise that the Scots can’t understand me just as often as I can’t understand me. I find this wierd because I talk like 90 per cent of the people on British TV, so I assume they are swinting with ears cocked when they watch Hugh Grant movies just as much as I am watching Trainspotting.

One conversation went like this:

Me (falling back on default football banter for male small talk): “I think we’ll be all right this year, but I doubt we’ll finish fourth again.”

Him: “Aye, you’ll be all right, but I think you’ll do it, honestly, Cliff.”

Me: “Maybe. There’s not many teams who will challenge us. Liverpool, maybe Newcastle if they get Owen.”

Him: “Newcastle, aye. They’re trying to sign - oh what’s his name?”

Me: (sympathetically silent)

Him: “Och, you know right. Wee fella. Owen. If they sign him they’ll be right.”

But that’s OK. And he pronounced “him” like “hem”, which is cool.

Sitting on the banks of Loch Lomond with the mist was drawing in and out, snoring over the mountains, watching land, made me think about sunshine and wonder why most people always call a sunny day a “good” one. Everytime the weather shifted between showers and sunlight, mist and wind, I realised an important lesson in impermanence, and seeing it change was like watching a lifetime.

Once, in the car, the kids were playing Eye Spy.

Daughter, 3: I spy with my little eye, something black and white.

Son, 5: The lines on the road.

D: No.

S: The bridge?

D: No.

S: The moon?

D: No.

S: Give me a clue.

D (triumphantly): Penguins!!!

Wife (with mock reprisal): Daughter, 3, where can you see penguins?

D (matter of factly): At the North Pole.

Which you have to admit is right.*

The countryside was incredible. Go if you haven’t. If you have, go again. In case you forgot, you might be reminded that every day is a precious gift. But hang on to the receipt in case you want to exchange it for something of equivalent value in case you don’t need that day or you’ve had it before.

Ho hum, back to reality.

Och aye the news.

*Actually, it’s not. There are no penguins at the North Pole. Penguins live only in the southern hemisphere. Everyone’s a critic.

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