Scotland

Our Man isn’t sure whether he has any right to offer an opinion about Scotland, having no vote, being English and living on the other side of the world. 

But that hasn’t stopped him before. Or David Beckham, who’s equally unqualified from offering his insights either, telling Scots that he saw their passion on the football pitch (er, playing against England) and therefore the two countries are better working together, because, er, they have more in common than they have apart. Like ying and yang, Laurel and Hardy, Posh and Sporty, yeast and sugar. You know. Or something.

But.

While faffing about sketching and colouring a shot of a Victorian London doorway he took on his last trip back to Blighty, Our Man was struck by how odd a concept Britain and the United Kingdom is. We don’t even know what to call our country. UK? Britain? England? I suspect it’s something to do with empire and all that. I mean, Victoria even called herself Empress of India. Slightly un-PC, eh Vicky? 

Well, it’s over. And if Scotland leaves, the union will be dissolved, the marriage of two unequals will be left to history. 

And maybe it’s about time. If not on Thursday, then someday soon. The arguments about currency and jobs and all that are secondary. Independence is its own reward. 

And if you accuse Our Man of being superficial and not really knowing the issues, the split loyalties of Celtic and Rangers fans, of first footing and, er,  kilts… you’d be absolutely right. I mean, Scotland’s like a whole other country, right? 

Right.

 This here is Our Man’s first ever water colour. It’s a house, round the corner, whose shutters are always shut, gate is always rusty, and has had less paint slapped on it in 30 years than Our Man has used in the last 30 minutes. Our Man realises he can’t do much detailed work in water colour which, given his poor attention span and lack of patience, is just fine with him anyway. Will try to do some more of these.