Always one for hip lingo on the cusp of becoming, I’ve kept a very close ear to the ground for the catchphrases of the 21st century Scotsman. After all, lexicon has to be tres evolved and of-the-moment in a land where men don camo kilts with detachable pockets in lieu of pants. Turns out though, much of the language here is as aged as the blackened stone castles and tenements that surround me. I reckon Valley girlese should hit Prince Street in about…2050.

For reader amusement and edification, I share a few of my favorite Tartanic turns of phrase including “jobbie” (a nice word for poo), “guardee loo” (an 18th century warning sounded just as rubbish and human waste disposal are about to fall on one’s head from the windowseal above) and “Cheers!”, not just a pub at which everybody knows your name but also the salutation chirped whenever you enter or leave a shop. Traveler’s hint: Pubkeeper gaiety and a hearty Cheers! are ensured with the purchase of at least one hard cider pint…aye…or so I’ve heard.

In the Name of Lonlitgow and Berwick Upon Tweed, :doggy:
TLRL

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I have been away from the beloved land of Clean Sweep and sheeny, shiny sweatsuits for a week now, and to be thistley honest, I can’t say as I miss it. The heart-pounding world of K Street seems crags away as I gleefully blog and our Euro-bullet train speeds past lush green fields and petworthy sheep furrier than those on Princess Diana’s famed red bah-bah sweaters.

I have oft heard my Jewish friends say that when they set their Tevas upon Israeli soil, an ancestral longing deep within is instantaneously fulfilled. Being in the beautiful, dimly lit land of the Scots, I can now assure you I know exactly how they feel. I never cried or clutched my tartan and clan pin while watching Braveheart, but the moment I stepped onto the cobble-stoned, castle-bedecked streets of Edinburgh, I felt in my very soul that I was a Scottish lass in every sense of the word, connecting with the lifeblood of my Curtis foremothers and fathers. OK, it didn’t hurt in terms of home sweet home heart warmies that there was a Royal Mile Starbucks welcoming me with open arms AND a holiday crème de menthe frappucino. The global economy and U.S. capitalist dominance aren’t just words thrown around by USTR anymore, they are beanscenes found on every corner from High Street to Holyrood. But I digress. Suffice it to say that a Highland country vacation home is very much in my imagined future and a penny-wise, pound foolish piggy bank designed to save for a summer hiking trip in the North has already been established.

Cheers!
TLRL (That Little Red-Headed Lass) :pigtails:

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