“When first my brave Johnie lad came to this town,
He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown;
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver!

Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu’ sprush,
We’ll over the border, and gie them a brush;
There’s somebody there we’ll teach better behaviour,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver!”

-Johnie Lad, Cock Up Your Beaver! 1791(2)

Yesterday was Robert Burns‘s birthday, which is celebrated in Scotland as Burns Night (or other names).

I think a lot about Scotland, not least because of my work with the city of Glasgow. Other recent developments make me consider a life in a reverse 1950s kind of scene with someone who reaches me on a level that few have. It might not ever really happen, but I am living “in the pretend” as though it will. It makes the day to day easier.

The beauty of these things is not being able to control them.

“F*** You, It’s Over” – Glasvegas (love this for the lovely pronunciation)