Scottish traditions the English will never understand

You might find them strange, but we will defend them to the hilt


Ah Scotland. Land of the brave. We have a unique history, unique traditions and a unique demeanour that has ensured we are famous world-over. There are some conventions, traditions and stories about this wonderful country however that others (anyone from England basically) struggles to accept as legit. However, we will defend these to the hilt. They make us who we are, and to us they are neither strange nor challenging.

Here are a number of Scottish peculiarities everyone down south finds barmy, beguiling and bemusing.

Dancing in a kilt

Tartan is one of the worlds most recognisable and emotive textiles. A kilt worn abroad has the Scotsman as an immediately approachable individual. Despite, or perhaps as a result of, a controversial history – being banned in the aftermath of the second Jacobite uprising – tartan has become an everyday part of Scottish encounters and rightly so.

Tartan is just so much more individual

The kilt itself is a glorious piece of clothing. Warm on a cold day. Cooling on a warm day. Whether you’re hitting the dance floor in your favourite club, prancing around at a posh ball or bouncing about at your mate’s birthday ceilidh the kilt provides unrivalled freedom of movement. It might look weird to those who don’t understand it, but this quasi-skirt will always be better than wearing trousers – especially when pulling mad shapes at the Ceilidh.

Compulsory poetry and pipe music on the wind

The folk culture in Scotland has a rich and incredible tradition. Robert Burns was a genius, even if you don’t understand a word of his work. Scottish folk music has been through two major revivals in the last 200 years, but is currently experiencing unprecedented support.

Busking on Princes Street

You can keep your English poetry of Wilfred Owen and Tennyson. If your great Lord Tennyson and our lowly Rabbie Burns were to have a scrap, the farmer from Dumfriesshire would doubtless have battered the sheltered aristocrat. Take us back to the terrifying Robert Burns poetry competitions of our primary school days: it’s all about the actions.

Edinburgh or Glasgow – East or West

From the rolling hills of the Pentlands to the sheer precipices of the Skye Cuilins, the variation and extremity of the Scottish landscape is unrivalled. Those of you who are foreign to our lands may expect the make-up of our country to be more mountainous than yours but nothing can prepare you for the clean air and bagpipe music fluttering in the wind.

Oh Man, Glencoe is so beautiful

Our varied landscape has helped carve out an East vs West divide. Ask any Edinburgher about the potential advantages of a life in the Glaswegian West and they will scoff audibly. The same applies to the specific breed of human that hails from the Western Highlands and Islands and those belonging to the undulating moors of rural Aberdeenshire. This sort of regional pride paradoxically draws us together in a way those visiting can only marvel at.

Our version of English is a language unto itself

Though Scots dialect in it’s most extreme – and undeniably raw – form has all but died, we still have a peculiar turn of phrase. While it’s rare to hear someone declare “Och aye the noo” (“Oh yes, just now”) it’s also rare to answer in the affirmative with anything other than “aye”.

Cold will always be “baltic” to us and we would never presume to be drunk, but rather “mad wae it” or “steamin'”.

Speaking of the English…

The antagonism felt towards the English north of the wall is undeniable and unparalleled. You thought the Welsh hated you? This is far stronger and stems from a myriad of things: from a modern distrust of Westminster politics to an ancient and deeply ingrained exasperation at consistent – and often militant – enforced subservience.

Whether the dislike for our neighbours is as serious and as well-founded as those examples above, even the Anglo-philes among us always love to see the English lose. Especially on the Rugby pitch.

Fresh Scottish haggis solves all problems

It’s difficult to be proud of the deep-fried mars bar and gallons of Irn Bru. Similarly, to glorify Scotch pies and Buckfast wine seems a step too far. That said, I beseech you to find a Fish and Chips better than those in the coastal towns of Mallaig – in the west – and Anstruther – in the east. And whatever you think of haggis, this culinary institution is wonderfully Scottish, and we won’t let you limit its consumption to Burns night.

Home grown Cavolo Nero and freshly caught lobster – yes please

There is nothing better than fresh Scottish produce, whether it’s good Aberdeen Angus beef or fresh langoustine it can scarcely be beaten. There is no spirit in the world greater than a single malt whisky: just try the 12 year old Glendronach.  And who are we kidding, we’re all proud of deep-fried mars bars, Irn Bru, Scotch pies and Buckfast really.

Strangers will talk to you

To hear a Scotsman emphatically declare “Aye pal”, or a shopkeeper suggest “that’s you” once the exchange of goods is complete, is an experience you cannot achieve without venturing North of the Wall. Where else might a stranger smile at you? Let alone make an attempt at conversation.

You may not understand our nuances, but welcome nonetheless

Where else could you leave a suitcase on a train in Perth, only to have the trainmaster travel miles down the line to Dunkeld to collect it for you – and all in exchange for a bottle of Glenmorangie? There’s not a lot a Scotsman won’t do for a bottle of whisky. People truly do make Scotland, let alone Glasgow.

Hogmanay

That’s New Year to you. It’s not celebrated like this anywhere else in the world. The street party in Edinburgh is an experience not to be missed. However, to bring in the New Year in a remote corner of Scotland, with a small group of mates, before intruding on the rest of the community as you first foot cannot be beaten.

First footing is an essential part of a highland Hogmanay and involves the first crossing of a neighbour’s threshold with a gift of coal (we must keep the all-important fire going) and, of course, a bottle of good whisky.