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Scottish Quotes

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Scottish Quotes

“5. Thou must set the scene with tunes. Road trips aren't the only time a decent playlist is required. How we consume music has changed radically over the years. Dinner at my grandparents' house was set to silence, at my parents' the radio, and at my friends' something much more personal: a playlist put together for the occasion with songs that are meaningful to us. Supper is on hold until the right music starts to play, even if it means holding a knife and fork and slavering over the smell of dinner until the person in charge of the tunes has done their job.”

“Waking up in a hut clarifies our relationship to the land around us. The things we think are essential to living melt away and less complicated ideas take their place. All we really need is fire, a place to wash, a desk to draw or form or think. Somewhere to capture a new view of the world and somewhere comfortable to sleep.”

“I had zero idea of what I was doing.. I honestly had no idea where to start. All I knew was I had something I craved to say.. I wanted to create art that lived on longer than I do. Perseverance and teaching yourself, every day through stress and hard work proves shit really does progress without you realizing. One minute you're an amateur, knowing nothing, not even the basics. The next you can put pen to paper, write a song, and create art in such little time! It's crazy beautiful.”

“A coorie home is one that both looks and feels good. A squishy couch and a favourite mug filled with a steaming cup of tea can brighten the edges of even the most miserable day. There must be a psychological reason behind why we get attached to certain items in our homes, whether it's dad's armchair with its alarmingly permanent bum groove or a wooden spoon with just the right shaped handle. Answers on a postcard, please.”

“Studies suggest that Scots spend less on home décor than anywhere else in the UK, but what we do spend big on is renovating and converting our properties instead of moving houses. Instead of moving home and incurring extra tax, it appears homeowners prefer to line the pockets of Scotland's architects. This suggests that instead of seeing the politics of home ownership and house building as a problem, we are choosing to turn it into an opportunity. This shift in thinking an help us live more comfortably, be more in touch with our individual needs, and in turn support Scottish practitioners.”

“The closest book most journalists have to a bible is their publication's style guide. Looking back over previous editions allow us to track the "ebb and flow of a living language", according to The Times. In my eyes, new additions to a style guide or dictionary highlight the impact of shifts in culture better than almost anything else.”

“No lack of time, strength or money shall prevent me from doing anything that I want to do,” was Sarah Macnaughtan’s lifelong motto, first uttered in her younger years. A compassionate and daring woman ahead of her time who stood barely over 5 feet tall, Sarah let no obstacles become roadblocks in her life.”

“2. Thou shall not fear the cold. So many coorie activities involve being outdoors: hiking demands a steely core and constitution, exploring the woods for crafty finds requires sturdy footwear - even skiing in the Cairngorms requires patience. All these pursuits offer the chance to clear the mind and get to know the country from within. Wild swimming in Scottish lochs is having a moment. Its beauty, swimmers claim, lies in the restorative nature of an ice-cold dip set against a backdrop of Scotland's most idyllic scenery. Nobody promised Barbadian temperatures, or clear blue seas, but for enthusiasts the appeal lies in testing yourself to your furthest limits.”

“4. Thou shall attempt a staycation, even if thou detests the word staycation. There are two types of people in the world. Those who will camp, and those who won't. Those who fall in the former category need little encouragement to pack up their sleeping bag and a Kelly Kettle and head out into the countryside. The ones who wander freely clearing up after themselves can set up a tent anywhere they fancy, as long as they show respect. This freedom to roam also lends itself well to the coorie movement. Braving the night-time chill around a fire with a furry friend at your feet and a hot chocolate in your hands after a day of toiling to create a coorie campsite is pretty special. A caravan stay in Aberfeldy is a more realistic option for the extended family than schlepping abroad en masse. Bonding time between grandparents and wee ones also gives mums and dads the chance for a gin on the banks of the River Tay before sundown.”

“Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out. Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him. He had never thought this could happen to him, that he would be attracted to another boy. He thought he knew himself so well. “I think you're smart, sexy, funny as hell. You have hidden depths, Lachlan. You only need the right person to coax you out of your protective shell,” he claimed. “Are you the right person?” Lachlan wondered, as he took a half step forward. Cormag took a deep breath and brushed at a strand of hair that was sticking out at a funny angle from behind the top of his ear. He tugged at his short hair every time he talked about his recent break up. He was such a dork.”

“Lachlan frowned as he misjudged the distance and his forehead hit Cormag's head with a bump. He wrapped his arms around his neck to steady himself, two big hands reaching up to hold onto his arms as if to offer extra support. “You,” he began, talking quietly into his ear, “are so beautiful,” he confessed, resting his heavy skull against Cormag's for a moment. He meant it as well. Cormag was stunning. He was taller and broader than he was, very much the fine figure of hotness. His dark hair was well kept, but a little messy, he had amazing bone structure; the type that made him look more like a model than a museum manager. A chiselled jaw, nicely defined cheekbones and a rugged quality that made him so appealing. He had never noticed how handsome a male face could be until those eyes drew him in. “And so are you,” his companion chuckled, “but we discussed this…I've ruined every relationship I've ever had. I get needy, possessive and my baggage gets in the way. Besides,” he lowered his voice to a whisper and brushed his hand over his upper arm, “You're not gay,” he protested, reminding him yet again that they were different. “Nope. Not gay,” he agreed with that, nodding his head as he pulled back a little to see him better. “But that doesn't make you any less beautiful. Why is it wrong that I can see how special you are?” he asked, having difficulty understanding why part of his brain was telling him he was being a drunken idiot and that the man before him wasn't attractive. But the rest of his brain – about ninety-eight percent of it – was telling him that he was the most attractive person he'd ever seen. “It's not, Lachlan. It really isn't.” “But it's somehow wrong for me to tell you?” Lachlan wondered, glancing across the bar to see Matteo smiling at him. He didn't know what it meant. Cormag cupped his face, capturing his undivided attention again. “No. Not that either. But it makes it hard for me to keep my distance. You're stunning. Inside and out,” he claimed, with chocolatey eyes that said he meant every word.”

“He shook his head and thought about it for a second. “Maybe I'm not straight? Can I still be straight when I'm sitting here looking into your eyes?” he asked. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought he was. “Yes. Absolutely.” Cormag nodded and watched him closely. “Even when I think they're so pretty? They are, you know. So many different shades of brown…and a little green. Just a touch; not a lot. So pretty.” He sighed happily, watching those dark eyes staring back at him in surprise. He lay his head on his arms, smiling at the way Cormag flushed in embarrassment and turned his full attention onto his bottle of beer. “Wow, you are super drunk.”

“The Castle Of Fear by Stewart Stafford The ghost sweated out from battlements, Appeared bleeding into full-bodied shape, The riddle of this phantom's raison d'être, Opaque as the spectre walked transparently. The armour that clad the body blinded eyes, The bagpipes it carried underarm deafened, The steely gaze froze the viewer on the spot, The sour odour it emitted made all nauseous. The wraith's left foot piteously dragged behind, Shuffling moans of pain, trailing the footsteps, Banshee shrieks, harrowing to all that heard, Dawn drained the strength, and it took flight. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“The place bewitched me. You could spend weeks here, I realised, and it still wouldn't feel long enough. It was a Narnia moment: the door opening to a place that felt like an adventure playground for adults. Pull open the door, tip your head back and watch for shooting stars on an August night.”

“One of the highlights of exploring the Scottish wilderness is spotting buildings that punctuate the landscape. They can be as humble as a doocot, as intriguing as an abandoned farmstead or as imposing as a ruined Palladian mansion. Each one will give clues to the people who have lived on and worked the land.”

“I'm certain that our friends from around the world find it hilarious that as soon as the sun makes an appearance we rush to sit out on our patios and balconies clutching hot drinks, "Isn't it lovely?" we tell each other, our voices barely audible through the chatter of our teeth. Even in summer the Scottish weather can be so changeable that we have learned to adapt our gardens, putting up seagrass walls to shield lawns and installing barbeques in sunken courtyards in an attempt to prevent being driven inside by the wind.”

“This year, Merida saw rashers, poached eggs in a fragrant sauce, canceled wedding buns spread with a bit of dripping butter, boar meat made into warm, onion-scented drinking broth. Tarts golden and fragrant with cheese and scraps of pastry, mushrooms simmered in broth and browned with leeks in goose fat. Preserved pears in bowls, figs soaked in whisky, even little biscuits with rabbits stamped on them. Their private feast was always all the bits and bobs and failed experiments left over from preparing the public one. If this was the odd-ends, Merida could only imagine what the proper feast would be like later. Cranky Aileen was a wonder.”

“If Canada had a soul (a doubtful proposition, Moses thought) then it wasn't to be found in Batoche or the Plains of Abraham or Fort Walsh or Charlottetown or Parliament Hill, but in The Caboose and thousands of bars like it that knit the country together from Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia, to the far side of Vancouver Island.”

“You've never heard of bagpipes?" Cody asked, sounding aghast. "They're as Scottish as kilts and red armpit hair!" "Um . . . yuck?" I said. "That's it." Cody said. "Steelheart has to fall so we can get back to educating children properly. This is an offense against the dignity of my motherland." "Great," Prof said. "I'm glad we now have proper motivation.”

“If you can't tell from my rap lyrics already, yes I am a feminist. And when I'm saying "hoe" or "bitch" I am actually referring to men. ...That sounded bad, in someway. But at the end of the day, I'm sick of rappers using "bitches" and "hoes" as terms towards women. Feminists are NOT a hate group. Feminists are not all female. Nor has it got an anti-male agenda. It's about equality! I've had a weird, special bond with women since I was a kid. And it's just a shame really that I'm gay.”

“We spend prolonged periods in pubs and restaurants after all, whiling away the hours with friends, waiting in vain for the weather to ease. Our homes become a natural extension of these convivial spaces: warm and open to guests. Spending so much time indoors with other people, perhaps over an alcoholic drink, encourages conversation, arguments and resolutions. It fills us up with more knowledge - or at least allows us to realise there are other opinions aside from our own.”