Nae Mair BS, doll.

Those memories on Facebook are a double edged sword; I’ve come to hate them as they throw up photos of those lost; anniversaries, dates, reminders can be unduly painful, but we also know that in time reminders of happier days bring comfort and belly laughs.

I’m thinking tonight of my Dad, an SNP supporter since his days in Alva’s Cochrane Hall in the 1950s, a ‘cloakroom attendant’ smoking roll-ups at the front door one minute and guarding ladies’ jackets the next. I suspect a hip flask was involved.

Dad was born in 1935; he recalled stray bombs left over from the Clydebank blitz being dropped in Clackmannanshire. He climbed the Ochil Hills with his big brothers and pals; they camped out in tents made of coal sacks, survived on damper using a recipe noted from a black and white matinee at the local fleapit, their jerseys were hand me downs and their boots tackety. 

Teddy Boys weren’t even invented when Dad left school, but he became one anyway, with a DA, brothel creepers and a unique ability to jive. He met my Mum in Methil and they eloped with a box of Milk Tray and a Blue Lagoon. You’ll recall that to their eternal credit they returned from London and Bedfordshire to Scotland for my birth. The Scottish independence movement wouldn’t have forgiven them otherwise. 

And today I find myself cackling like an auld crone at the concept that there’s a changing of the guard upon us. Can we please reset the entire independence movement now? It belongs to everyone. All of us. It doesn’t need ambassadors or hosts or heroes. It deserves honesty, drive, courage, ambition, fire and determination.

Scotland requires every shoulder to the wheel; not division let alone promotion of one brand, actor, party or faction over another. We’ve got All Under One Banner saying on the tin what  it is and does; there is Hope Over Fear telling the world that Scotland needs courage and optimism. We have no call for bundles of merchandise to tell us what we already all know.

This isn’t about displaying or eating flags. It is about the liberty of our nation, the right to call ourselves Scottish not British, the ability to freely visit and trade with the world. To welcome students and to travel beyond our shores as we study and learn. My Dad worked in Alva, Algeria, Ardersier, Alness, Kishorn, Nigg, Grangemouth, Paisley, London, Falkirk; he saw for himself the treasures of this land and understood our vast potential. Now that he is gone, like so many others, we must focus on our country and the issues which matter.

Country before party every time.

All views and experiences count.

Those who have lived and striven for our country’s independence, given decades to that noble and honest cause, own voices which speak of experiences Scotland  should  hear. Silencing of the old guard has no place in a vibrant democracy. But BS is BS regardless of its source or the age of the voice announcing it. My Dad would challenge me to explain my hopes for our country in simple brutal direct and short terms. I recommend you try that too. Scotland will flourish when we’re honest, sincere and devoted to her cause.