The Wee Scotsman

I have come a long way in understanding the Scottish language. When I first got here, I was completely and utterly clueless. I was like Alicia Silverstone in that one movie where she was without a clue. Now, I am like Reese Witherspoon in that movie where she was legally blonde: I am sassy and fully of spunk ready to take on the world and converse with people on their level.

I have had the ultimate test. Yesterday I was sitting on a bench when I saw a wee Scotsmen. ‘Wee’, for those of you who don’t know, is a word that the Scottish like a lot. It means small or short; but they say it all the time and it is used in a strange context. For example, when I went to have an interview for my national insurance number, the man asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking a wee seat while I waited for my appointment. I asked if he wouldn’t mind my taking a regular seat, my arse being rather rotund, and he just gave me a funny look. Although I am pretty sure he was checking out my backside when I walked away, you can see how ‘wee’ is an often utilised word.

Anyway, all of this wee talk has been to explain what I mean when I say that I met a wee Scotsman. What I mean is that I met a Scottish midget. I was sitting, minding my own business, when I saw a tiny little man in a kilt walk by. It turns out he wasn’t actually wearing a kilt, he just had his shirt untucked, but he was still clearly of Scottish ancestry. He was even ginger.* So, this ginger midget sat down next to me and started talking to me. Now not only did he have a high pitched squeaky midget voice, much like that of Andy Rooney**, but he also had a Scottish accent, much like that of the woman who does my dry-cleaning. And guess what? I totally understood him like! Yeah, I’m getting pretty good at the whole Scottish thing.

I think that I am ready for what will surly be one of the greatest challenges of my life. When I get back in the US I am going to watch Trainspotting – without subtitles. I know, it is a lofty goal indeed; but I think I’m up to it.

*Yes, Britta, I met a Scottish ginger midget: are you happy now? The world is so cruel.

** yes, I mean Andy and not Mickey Rooney. Do not question my analogies.

Later days,