Mojo

I’d lost my mojo. I don’t know exactly when I last saw it, but it was a l-o-n-g while ago. I was sort of resigned to maybe never stumbling across it again (pessimist) or at least not for a good few months (optimist). Then out of the blue I got an email from the BBC (yes, the real BBC) asking permission to use a photo of mine on a childrens TV science programme about arches. Then lo and behold – there was my mojo, lurking round the corner of the cloisters at Glasgow University.

I can see you behind the pillars Mojo.. come back to me!
I can see you behind the pillars Mojo.. come back to me!
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Where is Scotland exactly?

I mean no offence to any of my American friends with this post, nor indeed to any American readers of my blog……. BUT (you always know there’s going to be something cheeky, rude or slanderous if there’s a BUT in the sentence) where exactly is Scotland?

At a wedding on Saturday after being introduced to someone I had to choke back the laughter when she asked me “And are you as fluent in our language as your husband is?”…… Eh… Yes was my only answer!

Some of the other beauties we’ve heard here are….

“You’re from Scotland? How long did it take you to drive here?” 10 days in my submergible car!

“Did you have to learn to speak English before you moved here?” Yep. We only spoke Scottish before!

“You’re Scottish – does that mean you’re Irish?” Eh, no. That means I’m Scottish!

“You’re from Scotland? My people are from Wales!” Congratulations!

And my all-time favourite….

“Scotland… I’ve always wanted to visit that island off the coast of Scotland.” Me: Oh yeah, what one? Arran, Skye, Shetland Isles? “No, what’s it called again. I can’t remember. Oh yeah. NEW ZEALAND, that’s the one!” Hmmm, didn’t pay much attention in geography classes did you my friend?

Scotland. Not New Zealand.
Scotland. Not New Zealand.