Tag Archives: Walter Scott

Independence Day, Robert Burns, Iron Bru and A Scot as Long as I Breathe.

I confess that I have been watching with interest the manoeuvres for an independent Scottish Nation.

I am intrigued that it is being reported that it is the Scottish people who will be given the vote, that is to say that if you live in Scotland you can partake in the most important decision that has been placed before the Scottish Nation in 300 years.

As a Scot living and breathing English air, for more than 25 years I still feel as patriotic today as the day I left so there is one half of me that cannot understand why the vote is not open to all who were born in Scotland.

The other half knows It would throw up the dilemma which way would you vote in the circumstances, do you adopt a political approach, take a romantic stance or as a displaced enthusiast for Scott, Burns and Iron Bru with no current commitment to return to my place of birth perhaps would it not be a difficult to impossible discussion?

Perhaps it is a blessing that Dear Mr Salmond will not be seeking my opinion and I can take comfort no matter what the outcome that there will always be Scot’s Novels, Burns poems, haggis and single malt not to mention that they are building a factory to produce Iron Bru in this part of the British Isles that they call England.

But most importantly of all it will not change the reality that as long as I live and breathe, I will always be a Scot.

A Scots Emblem in a English Setting Mepal Cambridgeshire


 

A Sentimental Journey , A Taste For Scott and True Patriotic Fervor

March 23, 2009_Cambridgeshire-1148_001.jpg

I am feeling disorientated, I put it down to feeling over nostalgic, yes it could be explained as an effect of reaching an age where grey becomes silver and elderly is an acronym for wisdom or is it just the plain simple fact that being away from what is vaguely called home if  your place of birth is home, for more years than I care to remember.

It would be ludicrous to try and blame my craving for a breath of Lowland air or Highland hospitality on all this talk of independence for Scotland but it certainly is having an effect.

I have always had moments when I  have lusted after Heather Honey, Macroon Bars and Tablet made in Fintry but it seems more fundamental than a sweet tooth.

Now when this feeling is rationalised it has to be admitted I have been reading too much Edwin Muir not to mention Sir Walter Scott, so perhaps the solution is a Shakespeare Sonnet, a chapter from The Pickwick Papers or a paragraph of Laurence Sterne but I do not believe I can ever erase the sentiment in the following which flows through my veins.

“Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d,
As home his footsteps he hath turn’d,
From wandering on a foreign strand! “

Extract for: Lay of the Last Minstrel. Sir Walter Scott


 

Traveling In The Realms Of Gold

I have not been counting the days or the months since I last tried to perform the art of blogging, not that I have been living for the moment which in itself is a laudable philosophy but have been trying to render our bookshelves obsolete or should I say traversing in the realms of gold.

I am discovering that I am still a mere amateur when it comes to clearing space as there seems to be more books and authors crying out for attention than when I began, Scott, Hogg, Byron and Radcliff to mention a few, maybe I should at this point also list Homer as I have quoted or should it be misquoted from Keats, but as this is a truthful account I cannot honestly say that Homer has ever been on my reading list, well not at present.

Now perhaps that is where I am going wrong as there are more books on my reading list as there are on our bookshelves, so once I have completed another tome it only makes room for a further purchase to reduce the reading list so it all becomes self perpetuating or maybe the basis for a thesis on the benefits of public libraries.

The Picture Shows:

The spire of the beautiful 13th century church of St Mary’s Bluntisham. The literary connection is that Dorothy L Sayers creator of the
Lord Peter Wimsey Father was Rector.