In one of the cooler inner suburbs of Glasgow, I found not only a sourdough bakery but also a comfortable looking coffee lounge where, reassured by the complement of young Apple Mac users at the tables, I decided to get my caffeine fix. When asked if I wanted sugar with my flat white, I declined (having ‘given it up’ back in 1972). The coffee, which was fine, came with what appeared to be a small biscuit on the saucer. I took a cautious nibble and almost spat it out, it was so sweet. “What is that?” I asked the waitress. “Oh, it’s tablet. It’s made with sugar and condensed milk. I know!” she said, regarding my horrified expression. To my taste, ‘tablet’ – like escargots or borscht – is one of those delicacies best reserved for natives and the incident was a hint that, despite the proliferation of foreign ways north of the border, a deep layer of cultural Scottishness persists. And long may it do so. It’s part of its attraction.
It seems to me that Scotland’s political independence movement has a good case culturally, though its economic arguments may seem a bit wobbly. Currently, there is a halfway-house standoff that puts the English in unexpectedly ill-defined situations. Just before leaving home, the National Health Service offered me a vaccination appointment for the following week, at a centre of my choosing – except in Scotland. Likewise, in need of a repeat prescription during my travels, I find it is only possible to collect from a Scottish pharmacy with written authorisation from my doctor in England, by which time I’ll be back at home. What of this United Kingdom? Even my over-60s bus pass is invalid up here.
My Senior Railcard, however, is valid and I used it for a day trip to Edinburgh this week. I won’t attempt to labour the differences between the neighbouring cities – each has its unique attractions – but I can recommend the National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh to those who might appreciate a pictorial overview of Scottish history. In just an hour or so of wandering the galleries, one thing struck me above all else: the number of famous, celebrated, pioneering individuals of Scottish heritage seems out of proportion to the small population of the country (currently around 5.4 million). In every field of the arts and (especially) sciences, Scots have excelled to an extraordinary extent. The figures painted in procession on the four-sided frieze of the main hall represent an astonishing parade of individuals whose familiar names are associated with myriad advances in Western European culture. I am still reeling from the impact and speculating on how this came about. Could it be, perhaps, that a combination of a physically bracing northern climate and a mentally bracing form of Christianity played a part in stimulating the ambitions of the population?
I also went to look around New Lanark, an 18th century mill complex in the Clyde valley that is now a World Heritage site. It’s founder, David Dale, was a contemporary of Adam Smith and may have shared with him the notion of compassionate capitalism, in so far as he provided his workforce with housing, education and medical care within his village-cum-industrial development. There are examples of this form of paternalistic capitalism in England, Styal Mill in Cheshire, for example, but the scale of New Lanark is more ambitious.
My on-the-spot evidence of the roots of Scots’ devout yet enterprising tendencies is, admittedly, anecdotal. It comprises an unusually high incidence of street proselytisers offering me free bibles and a chap in a kilt standing outside the big, swish Apple store with a signboard proclaiming “Quicker Apple Repairs. SimplyFixit. 11 Bath Street (Left at Rolex)”. Canny? Scots?
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