The sun is streaming through the window making it difficult to see my screen but also reminding me autumn is one of my favourite times of the year.
When the last riot of colours from the trees are making sure they aren’t forgotten in the time it takes for spring to swing past again.
Gone are the cropped trousers and out with the cosy jumpers.
It’s time to pack away my black summery clothes and bring out my black wintery clothes.
What I said the first time…
I’ll spend weekday mornings ‘encouraging’ our kids to wear coats, they call it nagging. I call it ‘listen to what I said the first time’.
Is that too much to ask?
Apparently, and I’m left looking forward to commonly occurring answers at 4pm to ‘how was school today’?
1. Fine. 2. I don’t know. 3. What? (Removes a singular Airpod while glaring) 4. Is there something to eat?
All serious, meaningful responses and subsequent discussions naturally only occur at 11pm.
Off to the protest march
Middle kid did tell me about the protest march she went on, she even proudly showed me her cardboard banner.
I was exceptionally proud of her vigour but also amused by the seemingly changed days of student protests.
She had messaged to ask if she could go and asked me to phone the school office to inform them, she had our permission.
All very polite and not quite the thrilling ‘walk out to march’ of previous generations.
With all eyes on COP26 in Glasgow, this is certainly the time for Scotland to shine.
You can be assured the good, folks of Glasgow will not have changed one iota with regards the onslaught of dignitaries and protesters alike.
I’ve got to wonder how Greta Thunberg reacted when she encountered a crowd of Scots hell-bent on turning a climate conference into a party.
Our ability to make a party
The Scottish ability to turn everything into a party won’t have shied away from this opportunity.
Waiting in the queue for a taxi at 3am? On the late train home?
You’ll end up besties with the person next to you, sharing a bottle of fizz with the hen party or having a heart to heart with the middle-aged mother of three teens.
We Scots have certain skills admired the world over.
The ‘last bus’ thing…
After you’ve started your ‘last bus party’ the last thing you’ll remember is someone shouting ‘five more tequilas’ before miraculously waking up in your own bed.
Fully clothed. On top of your duvet. Daylight streaming through the curtains shining on a half-eaten kebab. If you’re lucky, there might be a bottle of Irn Bru to set you up for the day.
The capacity to protest here in Scotland is handily aided by our ability to walk for miles.
A casual stroll to us is nothing on the flat roads in comparison to our weekends spent incorporating at least three Munros in horrendous downpours when the wind’s blowing a hooley.
Just pack yourself a few fingers of shortbread and a flask of tea, anything else is posh finery, grab your sign and hit the pavements.
I’m unsure if the dignitaries attending will have been privy to all the best parts of the Scots magic ability to make everyone welcome.
Cut down to size
Will the luxurious dining rooms of Gleneagles or lounges of the Balmoral give a sense of our ‘everyday’ selves?
I doubt the staff within these establishments will show off our ability to swiftly cut other folk down to size.
To make sure anyone bragging is quickly brought back in tow with a quick one-liner to restore balance.
As Scots, we place as much care into calling out our friends as others do into writing love letters, and our feelings are equally earnest.
Except when someone calls you ‘pal’ through gritted teeth. This means the opposite and you’re going to want to step away, quickly.
Us cheeky Scots
The Scot’s ability to unfailing hand out cheek is proficient and to be admired.
COP26, along with its important messages, has been entertained by our genuinely funny and adorable Celtic charm.
My favourite being the American CNN reporter who set up with Edinburgh Castle as his amazing backdrop.
Or the White House correspondent announcing the President’s arrival in Glasgow as he stepped off Airforce One on Edinburgh airport’s tarmac.
Thankfully the twitter Tartan army set them straight
