Blue skies, Mood, People, Pubs, Scotland, Scottish men, Weather
This blog is called Anne blabbers. This is one of those post that will show you why. And since that is my name in front of the verb: allow me.
One of the wonderful things about travelling is meeting people. We had pictured late evenings in Scottish pubs, laughing and chatting with the locals while sipping on a pint. Listening to music and, listen to the varieties of Scottish accent as we travelled from one part of the country to the next. We met quite a few interesting people, most of them men, as a group of three ladies seem to attract them more easily than other women. And as you know, when meeting a lot of new people, someone might come around who’ll take up permanent residence in your head. This happened to me.
I was, as you know, travelling with the most wonderful travel companions I can imagine, two of the most wonderful ladies I’ll ever know. Now, I could go on and on about the amazing qualities they possess but I will focus on one thing that one of these ladies shows immense talent for and that is finding people to talk to. More specifically: in a pub she walks over to the bar to order a drink only to return to our table with the most interesting people in said pub.
After finding the perfect company for us in a pub in Oban, we hit the pubs in Edinburgh, looking for another night of perfection. We sent our lovely blonde off to the bar to get us drinks, as that would guarantee a man following in her path back to the table. She did not let us down. Introduced to us was a man who’ll we’ll never forget.
Let’s call him Scott, or, let’s not, that could be interpreted as us seeing him as the stereotypical Scotsman, which I don’t don’t think he is. In fact, this is the type of man you don’t come across every day, and thus also one who leaves one heck of an impression.
He didn’t really stand out in the crowd, but then he opened his mouth. And then, my friend, I realised a few life-altering truths. The first was that we had obviously lost our good luck somewhere around Glasgow. Second was that a nice Scottish accent is not synonymous with being sweet, kind, and polite. Can you imagine our disappointment?
The man seemed to be thrilled to be the only man at our table, and he was not going to waste his time. He blabbered even more than I tend to when I’m nervous. And to give you a brief summary of some of the topics we (or, rather he, as this was more of a monologue than a dialogue) touched upon:
- “Everybody hates the Brits. Nobody likes them at all. They’re in the European Union, but really, they shouldn’t be because everyone hates them. They get along better with their closest neighbour(?), the US, but unfortunately they don’t really seem to notice them at all.” How we can be so sure everybody hates them? “Well, have you ever seen the results of Eurovision?” I now pointed a finger and tried to remind him of what the previous British entries have been in the song contest, with which he replied: “Well, everyone hates us anyway and nobody’s going to give us any point anyhow, so why bother sending anyone good?” There seems to be a bit of an evil circle going on there, but who am I to talk? Norway is attached to the continent and thus I am biased as I already loathe them. Fortunately there’s Australia. Australia rocks and is by far the best country in the world.
- “The UK is the most corrupted nation in the world. Every politician is corrupt. They will do anything for their own personal wealth and can be turned in any direction with the right amount of cash. Of course may of them start out nice, but once they smell money their souls are sold to Satan and they cannot be saved.” The poor man did not get the expected responses from us on this subject which resulted in a silent moment, where his eyes flicked back and forth between us. He gave off a nervous laughter before he asked: “You’re not politicians, are you?” He was never really convinced we were, which in fact really made my day. I can now proudly say I have been accused of being an undercover politician set to infiltrate society in order to see what Average Joe thinks about how we run the country. Badass!
- “Scotland sucks! The weather is horrible, it’s cold, it rains, and the sky is always grey. There is basically no reason to live and every Scotsman we’d ever meet would be depressed and grumpy.” ( I assume all other Scots I’ve ever met have just been extremely good at hiding this). “What makes them all so depressed is the weather and the cold. Nobody can live and function normally under such circumstances,” he said and looked at us who were both smiling. We had to remind of where we were from, the amounts of rain we get, the fact that our country is further north and thus is probably both colder, and definitely has fewer hours of sunlight during the winter. He could not explain this, but it could have something to do with our blond hair and blue eyes. Duh!
- Oh, and being a Glaswegian in Edinburgh is worse than anything else in the entire world!
The guy left our table in a fury when we counter-argumented and happened to say something about Scotland that he misinterpreted as criticism. “Who were we to criticise his country!?”
We were glad to see him go. Before leaving the pub, we were asked by a few men(lads) at the table next to ours, where we were from. When Norway was our answer, they looked at us in bewilderment, shook their heads and said that we could not be. We looked as confused at that comment and wanted them to elaborate. With which we were met with “You can’t be! There was a terrorist attack in Norway. You were shot!”
We then left the pub, never to look back. But with memory of Scott, far from the average Scot, who we’ll never forget.
I don’t think it was your friend’s ‘people magnet’ at work that pulled this man to your table for a chat, or even the blonde hair – not that I want to cast a [Scottish] damper on your narrative or anything. Its just that I bet that everyone else in his local avoids him, so if he wanted to talk, you were it.
Still, there are many bright sides other than having great material for an amusing blog. You and your friends now have a new measuring stick – I can see you at a party in 20 years, buttonholed by an opinionated bore and all you have to say to one of your travel companions is “Scott” and she will understand and come to the rescue. Probably you will end up thanking this man many times over. 🙂
She’s just very good at striking up conversations with strangers and inviting them to our table, which is what happened here to. I somehow doubt that he would have found his way over without the encouragement…
And you are absolutely correct about the name, it has become an item in our vocabulary with which hopeless men are compared. Thanks for reading! 🙂
This is just too funny…it seems everywhere in the world there is a “Scott” and they always turn up in the oddest places and times. Maybe they are an alien life form. “Scott.”
They could be undercover politicians trying to rat out other undercover politicians?